Dark Wolf
by Elizabeth Rowland
Summary: Through many trials and horrors Hermione begins to believe that Voldemort may just have the right idea when it comes to muggles. HGSS I doubt I'll ever be finishing this.
1. Punishment of the Most Cruel Kind

Chapter One: Punishment of the Most Cruel Kind

"Professor, please!" Hermione pleaded as she ran to keep up with his long and fast strides. "Don't do this!"

"Stop your prattling and get out of my way girl!" He snapped, not even looking at her or slowing in the slightest.

"There's no sense in it!" She darted ahead of him and blocked the door he intended to go through, gripping to the frame desperately as Malfoy watched, numb in the shadows.

"Miss Granger, if you do not move, I will move you" his words were harsh but they were nothing when compared to his inky blue, almost black eyes.

"This is suicide!" She screamed at him, praying for him to see reason. Instead he grabbed her forearms and yanked her from the door frame, pausing only to carelessly cast her aside. "He knows what you've been doing! He'll kill you!" Her voice was a frantic cry for something, anything, to stop him.

"I thought you of all people would be glad to be rid of me," he sneered coldly as she scrambled back to her feet, to give chase once again.

"That's not true! No ones life should be cast aside this casually!"

That was when he snapped. He whorled around, black cloak billowing, and grabbed her throat with such ferocity that for a moment she actually thought he was going to kill her. She was almost relieved when he forced her to stumble backwards and slammed her against the wall with a dull thud. Yet the fire in his eyes was anything but dull. "You," he squeezed her neck, she choked, but his grip did not loosen in the slightest, "understand nothing of this!" His voice was low and dangerous, the tone he used when he was truly angry. "Now, whether you and young Mister Malfoy want me to or not, I am answering this summons," it was odd, but she hear a trace of longing and relief in his voice, and that scared her far more than his violent outburst ever could. He squeezed her neck again, almost completely cutting off her air supply. "I, in no way, need to explain myself to two students, but if you have learnt anything from me it should be that no one has the right to go unpunished."

Tears began to prick at her eyes as she struggled for breath, fleeting thoughts of ghosting out of his grasp flashed across her mind as spots danced before her eyes. But she didn't, she trusted him. As absurd as that might sound when he was choking her, but she trusted him and so made no move to fight against him, even as unconsciousness threatened. His eyes widened out of their glare for a split second as he realised what he was doing. Still he did not relent his harsh actions. Rather than gently releasing her, he gave her neck another painful squeeze and slammed her back once again, before carelessly throwing her to the ground.

His assault had the desired affect. She was not seriously hurt but she was hurt enough to not be able to stop him. Her vision was hazy at best and she only recognised the figure at her side because of the light flash where she supposed his head would be. "Malfoy," Hermione whimpered as she heard the front door to number twelve Grimuld Place open then slam shut, "I'm sorry I-" A gentle finger was placed over her lips to stop her raspy voice from continuing.

"You tried, that's all anyone could do. And if he wouldn't listen to you, he wouldn't listen to anyone," her new friend cooed softly.

Then he gave an exasperated sigh. "You should have ghosted out of his hand Granger, why didn't you?"

"I trust him." She muttered hoarsely, still trying to catch back that breath that had been denied to her. She heard another sigh before he spoke again.

"Lets get you fixed up, we can't have you not being able to nag at me, now can we?"

* * *

Severus Snape found very few things disturbing. He found child abuse disturbing, he found the fact that men he associated with enjoyed raping muggles and muggleborns, regardless of their victims' gender or whether or not they could still draw breath, very disturbing, he found dismemberment disturbing and he found other peoples gratitude disturbing. But he had never expected to find Grangers apparent distress disturbing.

In all honesty he had expected no one to bat an eyelash when he decided to answer Lord Voldemorts summons, knowing full well that he had been discovered as a spy. The fact that Malfoy had paled to the point of appearing dead had been shocking enough, but for Granger to fly off the handle and purposefully get underfoot in an attempt to stop him from leaving was the most disturbing thing he could have ever imagined, and what made it so disturbing was that he did not know why she had reacted like that. Couldn't she see that he _needed_ this? He needed to be judged; he needed to be condemned for what he had done. Who was doing the condemning did not matter in the slightest, nor did the supposed hand of justice have to be punishing him for the crimes he had committed, he simply needed to answer for something. Whether it was for murder or betrayal he did not care, for both weighed heavily on his conscience. All that mattered was that someone pass judgement.

Though he did feel guilty about what he had done to the girl. She would be bruised, sore and unsteady for a while, but she would be okay in an hour or two. She was also a strong and rational girl, so he hoped that she would eventually work out why he had done that and why he had left. Why he felt guilty for strangling her he had no idea. She was a good pupil and he should have told her that instead of pinning her to the wall and choking enough of her breath from her to put her out of the way, out of harms way really. He knew she would have followed him if she could have, so really that was the best thing to do. It was just one more crime to atone for, one tiny addition to an almost never ending list of transgressions, almost all of which were far worse than what he had done to Granger.

That was why he went to the Dark Lord now. He knew he would receive punishment and he knew it would not be as quick as simply killing him. It would most likely be slow and drawn out torturing to death. As perverse as it may seem to anyone else, it was what he needed to be able to die at peace with himself. He had to know that he had paid for his crimes, whether through punishment or atonement. With atonement an almost impossible task, he was left with only punishment.

So, with his Death Eater attire wholly and purposefully missing, and his Dark Mark causing serious discomfort, he apperated to where ever the damned thing was trying to guide him. Which led him to the centre of a dark forest clearing, lit only by the moons light. Taking in the thirty or forty Death Eaters around him, standing in a circle, and the grotesquely serpentine Lord Voldemort perched upon a makeshift throne directly before him, he did not feel fear. All he felt was a slight irritation, an irritation that he decided to voice. "How clichéd," Severus sighed, sounding disappointed. "I had at least thought you would come up with something original, or has your imagination fled you with your humanity?" Rather than seeming furious, the thin Dark Lord simply chuckled quietly.

"Why tamper with a classic when it works so well? Though I must admit, I am glad you still have your caustic tongue; it will make this all the more interesting." That did not sound good, he was amused and in a good mood, that was never a good thing.

Severus sneered, refusing to be polite to this false master and artificial father figure, if anything it would be very satisfying to annoy him without a thought to the consequences. "I suppose you'll be torturing me to death as well? After all, you seem to quite fond of staying within the limits of a lackey's imagination," he made sure that he was looking at the tall figure to Voldemorts right, obviously Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lords eyes glimmered with amusement as he regarded Severus. Finally he shook his head slightly.

"No, I'm not going to kill you, or have you killed. Your guilt will do that to you in the end." Severus frowned, but let him continue out of simple curiosity. "It may surprise you to know this, but I have always thought of you as somewhat of a son. You were the only apprentice I've ever had, most likely the only apprentice I ever will have, and I was proud to teach you. You have proved yourself to be very useful and I regret to have to do this, but betrayal can not go unpunished.

"I have also known for some time that you had developed some form of conscience, so your activities were not an unexpected discovery, though I had hoped reducing the actual direct killing you had to carry out would prevent this. It did not, and because I know you, I know that you want to be punished. To be tortured and to be killed for what you perceive as your crimes." A slow smirk crept across Voldemorts thin lips as he paused. "And because I know you, I know what you hate and fear most of all, fortunately for me, though possibly not for you, depending how much you value you life, it is something very easy to become against your will."

The demon, who had once been a man, and a surrogate father to Severus, gestured for him to turn. The Death Eaters parted revealing his punishment. His eyes widened in horror and for once he had nothing caustic to say. He could not help but think that it was somehow fitting, but horrific none the less. "Farwell, my wayward son. I release you from my service." Burning pain lanced through his left arm, and the hell before him took its chance with glee.

* * *

Hermione sat with her arm around Malfoy. He was calmer than she thought he would be. She knew what Snape meant to him, the potions Master was more of a father to him than Lucius ever had been. "I can't help but think that he's going to come back, even though I know he's probably already dead." His voice was completely droll, empty of everything but sound. Hermione held him tighter; she could only imagine what he was feeling since she had never really looked to anyone as a father figure and her own father, well, she didn't even want to think about him.

"I just don't understand why he would leave when he knew what would happen."

"I think I do," she mumbled quietly. Malfoy's eyes darted to her. "He feels guilty, he wants, wanted, to be held accountable for his actions."

"It makes sense I suppose. But why like this? He apprenticed under Voldemort for his potions Mastership. The Dark Lord was as much a father to him as he is to me. It would tear him apart."

"Perhaps he thinks it's no less than he deserves." She suggested softly. Malfoy gave a short derisive laugh.

"Probably. He always has been a glutton for torment." He gave another laugh, but this one was a true laugh. "I remember he said to me in third year, when I asked him why he taught when he obviously hates it, he said, "If I had a clear conscience I would not have forced myself into the purgatory of teaching equally idiotic and brainless children who simply don't want to be taught". I think he was just making excuses to stay and look for an apprentice to be honest. I've seen the way his eyes light up when someone shows a real flare for potions. I just wish I had known how to stop him."

Hermione frowned, remembering something she was surprised she had forgotten. "What made you think I had the best chance of stopping him?" She asked gently, and Malfoy looked at her with mild surprise, as though he thought she should already know.

"Trelawney, she had another prophesy a year or two ago." Hermione rolled eyes. "Don't do that, some of us actually believe in Divination when it comes to prophesies."

She sighed, wondering why she was even bothering. "What did she say?"

"That a living ghost would save a dark soul, who loved her, from something worse than death." He paused for a moment, the living ghost was definitely her, she could walk through walls and spells could go straight through her, but a dark soul who loved her? That was simply ridicules. A dark soul he may be, but Snape certainly didn't feel that way about her. Malfoy watched her for a moment as she frowned, then finally spoke again. "He loves you, you know. He hasn't realised it yet but he does." She shook her head, he couldn't have. He would not have choked her if he felt that way. "It's easy enough to see, if you know what to look for." It was impossible, she was a student. But he did say that Snape hadn't realised yet. "If he had done that to anyone else, they would have been unconscious, he probably even feels guilty about doing it. But I guess there's more than one dark soul in love with you; I just hope it's someone who will treat you as well as Snape would have."

"Why on earth would he have fallen in love with me?" Malfoy seemed surprised at that as well.

"He has the unique gift of seeing beauty where most others don't." He spoke in a wistful voice, as though he was recalling some wonderful time long since gone. It was a tone she often heard when people spoke of the time before Voldemorts' rise. "In a perfectly brewed potion, in an elegant spider, in the movement of a duelling sword, even in the bookish wall flower, too intelligent and fiery for her own good. You have that strange, pretty quality he seems to look for, a subtle beauty but far more real than anything more noticeable. But he loves the challenge you pose and your intellect more than your appearance, that's where he finds your more stunning beauty."

"How do you know this? You're talking as though you've picked it out his mind!"

He laughed again, livelier than before. "No, I haven't been in his head. I'd be too terrified of what he'd do to me if he found out. Most of what I've just said originally came from his own mouth. Not to mention you're forgetting about one of my own gifts."

"Ah yes, your logical imagination. . . What do you mean it came form his own mouth?"

Draco smirked before he spoke. "When he called you an insufferable know it all, the tone of his voice gave it away as an endearment, well, it did to me, but I know him enough to spot those things. Then last year, when I had already spotted that he was in love with you, I managed to get him to describe you by constantly going on about the girls in our year. He had something awful to say about every one of them, ranging from garish, to fake, to brainless, and a few other, far harsher comments. Wait there, why don't I just show? It would be far easier." She frowned, no one knew about Malfoy's gifts, unlike her own, and no one knew that they were bonded together as they were. It was a valuable secret that she did not want to risk revealing.

"What if someone walks in?"

"They'll just think we're asleep," he soothed. Finally she relented and he leaned back into the couch in a relaxed position. After a moments hesitation, Hermione rested her head on his chest and sank into his arms, a linking was always easier if they were touching. The more they were touching, the easier it was.

As one, they relaxed their bodies and felt for each other with their minds. Hermione found her eyes drifting slowly shut as her mind seemed to drift from her, reaching out towards Malfoy. Since they were so close it didn't take long for the drifting feeling to cease and a blackness to cover all. All she could feel was Malfoy, a calm but grieving and not quite believing shroud around the little form she still had. _Do you have the memory?_ She thought softly, letting her minds voice be heard.

_I have it, but you're still not letting me in properly, I can never really feel you right when we do this. What are you afraid of?_

_Nothing._

_You are. If you trusted me completely then you would simply let me in without having to try. _Her mind sighed into his. He was right. Why was she so afraid to trust him? _Because you think if you trust me I can hurt you easier,_ he answered softly with a caring swell in the sense of him she had, _but I'm not Harry and Ron. I won't run away because you can heal people and walk through things. I'm a freak as well remember. I can grow wings and guess peoples life sorry correctly after ten minutes of watching them. And this isn't exactly normal either._

_I'm sorry. I really am. I trust you with my life-_

_Just not with your heart._ The feeling that radiated to her was awful, enough to break open the guard she had around her heart.

The spirit crushing disappointment became heart wrenching joy at the simple act of letting him into her heart, once and for all. Both of them felt something else click seamlessly into place, though what it was neither of them knew, but it felt right. _Now I can show you, Hermione. _It was the first time he had ever called her by her first name in their uneasy friendship of almost a year and she could call the feeling it caused nothing but odd. So she said the only thing she really could say.

_Oh get on with it you big sappy Dragon._

_Very well, _he sighed, but the amusement he felt at her statement clearly reached her.

_And Draco, be careful what you show me. I have no doubt that you have a fair few memories that I have no wish to see. Most of which involving a witch, or knowing you, two of them._ A deep sated chuckle rippled through her being as Draco slowly and gently pulled them into his memories.

"_Why on earth would I want to look at student to see if they are attractive?" Sneered Snape from behind his desk. "They're disgusting enough when I attempt to look at them as what can loosely be described as human." Draco laughed from his seat in front of the large sturdy desk._

"_Indulge me?"_

"_I can't see why you want my opinion on this sort of thing. You know I'll say insult after insult about every girl you mention."_

"_Ever thought that might be the point?" He drawled arrogantly. Snape gave a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes._

"_Very well, pester me if you must, but I doubt I'll have anything nice to say about the garish females you seem to find appealing."_

"_Pansy Park-"_

"_Not enough between her ears to fill a matchbox, not to mention her repulsive taste in clothes, pink, pink and pink to name but a few disasters." Wow, he hadn't been joking when he said he'd have nothing nice to say._

"_Milli-"_

"_That I'm not even going to grace with an answer, I'd be saying snide remarks until dawn if I started on that particular specimen."_

"_Lavender Brown?"_

"_Shallow, conceited, irritating, fatalistic and false, need I go on? And the same can be said for her friends, the Patel twins."_

"_Hannah Abbott?"_

"_Boring and of average intelligence. Not to mention gaudily attractive."_

"_Gaudily attractive?" Draco questioned with a slight grin and a raise eyebrow._

"_Yes, the kind of attractive that is simply too obvious to be of any real value." Snape explained dully, giving the flawless impression that he really wasn't interested in this conversation in the slightest._

"_I happen to think she's quite beautiful."_

"_That's because you're young and foolish with no appreciation of subtlety"_

"_Fine, then who would you say is attractive in my year?"_

"_You're asking me to tell you what seventeen year old girl I find attractive? Not only that, but I'm meant to chose from those I've been teaching for almost six years?" Draco nodded, still smirking, and Snape rolled his eyes before leaning back into his chair with a contemplative expression on his face._

"_Then I suppose I would have to say Miss Granger." Draco's jaw dropped and he gaped at his professor. "Close your mouth Malfoy, unless of course your hoping to gain the elegance of a koi karp by letting it hang open like that." The younger of the two quickly closed his mouth and shook his head, expertly faking shock at Snape's revelation._

"_Why on earth would anyone find that irritating wench attractive?" He asked, secretly agreeing with the older mans opinion. Snapes lip curled at his words._

"_Do I seriously have to explain my preferences to you?" At Draco's nod Snape gave an exasperated sigh then began to explain. "I don't find women who are obviously stunning to be that attractive, actually, I find them to be quite dull and often self centred. That's why a Veela has little to no affect on me. If you look for the wall flower of the group they are often far more interesting. Even if she is quite bookish, as well too intelligent and fiery for her own good, I doubt that anyone could say she was boring. And as for her appearance, she may not be stunning but she has a sort of . . . prettiness I suppose you could call it, that is far more beautiful than any garishly bedecked Veela look a like could ever be, her subtlety is where her beauty is. I also get the impression she would pose quite the challenge on an intellectual level, and unlike hormone driven teenagers, I tend to look at someone's intellect as a sign of beauty."_

"_Sooooo, when are you going to make a move on her?" He asked mischievously._

"_When am going to what!" Shot back the now horrified potions master._

The blackness returned as though it had never left, liquid and comforting as Draco guided them out of his memories. _I would have let you see more, but the rest of that conversation gets a little, erm, embarrassing. Well, for me at least._

_In other words he hammered you._

_Yep, _he answered almost proudly,_ most horrifically._

By unspoken agreement, the pair began to unravel from each other, pouring back into their respective vessels. With a sleepy murmur, Hermione opened her eyes. But something was different. Wait there . . . She could still _feel_ Draco. That had never happened before. They had separated. They should only be able to feel each others strongest emotions. But she could feel his slight confusion wrapping around her heart as surely as she could feel her own. _What the. . . ?_

_Fuck! I could hear that!_ She heard reverberate around her mind. They looked to each other, startled.

_Maybe if we stop touching._ She suggested hopefully, completely forgetting to voice it. _It might just be some sort of residual thing._

_I bloody well hope so. This is weird an- what's that?_

A bizarre flush of pain, emotional and physical rushed through the pair, but left them unaffected. They knew the pain was there, but unlike with each other it did not affect their own emotions. Hermione leapt up and pushed away the dismay she felt at Dracos continued presence in her being. "It's getting closer." Hermione pointed out needlessly as the feeling got stronger, the use of her voice making the statement seem all the more dramatic. Draco slowly followed her example in rising to his feet.

"You feel it stronger, but why does it feel so familiar?"

There was a violent split in what they felt and they both shuddered at the ferocity of the tear. Now there were more than one, but somehow still only one. They looked to each other, as though they could find the answers in the others face, but all they found was confusion. A howl seemed to thunder through Hermione. "I didn't feel that." Draco told her, but it was a far away voice, unreal and insubstantial. She put her hand against her shoulder, where the others pain seemed to be coming from. It was a wound, she could tell that much. But it was extreme. Probably fatal.

The door banged open two floors below them and confused shouting rang out. Hermione took a pencil out of her pocket as she realised what had happened and handed it to Draco. "Don't you dare!" He ordered, already knowing she wouldn't listen, but he took the pencil anyway. "Hermione, it'll be worse than it's ever been. If you have any sense you won't do this."

"I have to. No one else will be able to do anything."

There were distressed sounds as people moved up the stairs to the floor below the pair. Hermione took a deep breath and walked out of the study type room, closely followed by Draco. She slowly walked down the stairs, following the confused shouts and cries into one of the houses many bed rooms. The one next door to her own.

The sight was horrendous. There was blood everywhere and a confused crowd of five, painted in gore, rushed about the mangled thing they had lain on the bed. But it was this very sight that sent a wave of relief through both of the gifted teens. The shredded black cloth hanging limply on the blood matted person and the gore covered hooked nose was all they needed to see to know who this figure was. Severus Snape. Alive, just, but grievously injured.

Suddenly Draco was coursing with hope, but fear ran through her veins. With a deep shuddering breath and literal emotional support from Draco, she called out to the helpless five who had no chance of healing the man. "If you want him to live, get out of my way!" Surprisingly, they did as they were told, obviously deeming Snape a lost cause.

She walked up to Snape. To get to all of his injuries she would have to ghost into him, but that was risky considering the reaction her healing provoked in her. But if she only ghosted for a short time she might be able to pull it off.

So with her nerves running high she laid her palms on the bloody chest of her professor. The few times she had ghosted before had mainly been brought on by fear of being hit by something and she had only ghosted once on purpose, running through a wall to get Draco out of the Malfoy Manor. But doing this was different. Ghosting through people was dangerous and doing so to heal them even more so. It was a risk, but he would die if she didn't try. Then again, he could die if she misjudged her healing gift.

With another deep breath she gently pushed down with her hands. Letting images of water run through her mind. Everything was insubstantial. She could pass through anything. She felt Draco shudder at the feel of the warm sliding liquid sensation glide through and over her own flesh as her hands disappeared into Snapes chest. She splayed her fingers inside of his rib cage, letting his flesh and innards remain insubstantial to her.

Now for the hard part, the healing. Her eyes rolled back as she searched within herself for that loathsome little store of energy. She found the wall that blocked it and pushed against it. It too flowed through her as easily as a brick wall would have. Then the burning force came with such savagery as she had never felt before. Her eyes snapped down to focus the power. Forcing it to flow through her hands from her heart. She let out a cry. Everything was insubstantial. A harsh white light shone out of Snapes chest. Everything was fluid. She slowly began to lift out her hands as the curse inside of him was forced from the wounds. She could pass through everything. His wounds began to knit back together as her body began to burn and shake. She pulled her hands out quickly. Her breath was shuddering as she let everything take on solidarity again. The burden halved but the burning intensified. Her hands shone more brilliantly than any star and she pressed her palms against Snapes solid chest. She cried out again. The shaking intensified as she forced Snape's molecules to replicate and close his wounds.

* * *

The first thing he registered was a cry of pain. Then there were nails raking across his chest and a loud thump. When he opened his eyes the sight he saw was shocking to say the least. Granger was spasming on the floor, not far from him, obviously having a seizure of some sort. Not only that but Draco Malfoy of all people was gently lifting her torso up and pressing a pencil into her mouth. "Bite down on this or you'll end up biting your tongue off," he cooed almost lovingly. Her eyes rolled back but she managed to do as she was told.

After a God forsaken ten minutes of not being able to do anything but watch as she shuddered on the floor with Draco's arms the only thing stopping her from repeatedly hitting her head off of the hard wood, Granger finally came to a stop and her eyes drifted closed. It wasn't until twenty minutes later when he had changed into another set of robes, astounded to find there was only a faint scar left on his shoulder, that Severus found out what had brought on Grangers seizure, and how he had come to bear only one scar from an assault that should have left him a mass of mangled flesh.

He stood at her bed side in her small room where the walls were covered in sheets of paper that held drawings, turning the walls into a motley of dark and light colour with patches of black and grey, and the desk on the other side of the room was laden with books and artists equipment. Over all the room was more homely than anywhere else he had seen in the Orders lair. Draco was sat on the chair that Severus supposed had come from her desk, watching her placidly, but with worried eyes. Severus sighed as he looked down to the witch in question.

Her brown hair fanned out over her pillow in bushy curls and her skin was pale, almost bloodless with even her lips verging on white. Her breathing was fairly even, thank Merlin, and her eyes were unmoving beneath their lids, with her long curved lashes resting gently against the curve at the start of her cheeks. Her heart was beating strong with a steady rhythm and he could smell no sweat coming from her. She was safe for now. Her condition was stable and she probably would not wake for a while. He only hoped that she would be the same Granger he had always known when she woke and for some reason he felt somewhat responsible for her current state. Perhaps throttling her earlier that day had had some hand in this.

As if reading his thoughts, Draco spoke quietly. "This isn't your fault. It's her own." Severus raised an eyebrow at the teen's words.

"What do you mean?" He asked warily, unsure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

"You won't know about her . . . gifts. You'd only just arrived after the word had been spread, then . . . left quite quickly afterwards," Draco started haltingly, but he soon gained fluency. "She has two sort of . . . powers; I suppose you could call them. One is Ghosting, that's basically walking through things as if they aren't there, she can make spells go through her as well, and there's a sort of force-field thing she hasn't got the hang of yet. That doesn't really take that much of a toll on her, but her other power more than makes up for that.

"She can heal people." He took in a shaky breath that sounded as though there was gravel rattling in his lungs. "Healing herself isn't that bad, she just trembles a little. But when she heals other people she has a seizure. The worse the injury she heals, the worse the seizure. Today was her worst. She knew what would happen, but she went ahead and did it anyway." The blond shook his head then rubbed his face.

Severus could tell he had left something out, but if Draco did not want to tell, then he would not force him to. He knew that the boy, well, man really, only kept secrets if they were worth keeping.

He laid a hand on his surrogate sons' shoulder, taking a step closer to the bed to do so. That was when he felt something stir in his chest. A growl seemed to flow through him, unheard but reverberating through his rib cage. Finally it became words whispered into his mind by a smooth and somehow clean voice. _She smells good. She's Alpha female. Strong and wolf . . . yet not wolf. Wild yet tame. I love her._

Severus frowned. He knew exactly what that voice was. It was the wolf that had been forced into him on this night. Strange how even though he should be distraught at becoming a simple vessel for a beast he actually felt as though he had finally paid for some if not all of his crimes. Certainly for betraying a man that despite himself he still thought of as somewhat of a father figure or a mentor. His punishment was somewhat fitting. As Voldemort had said, it was the one thing he hated and feared above all else, yet it was so easy to become. There was also the simple fact that he was allergic to a compound used in the wolfsbane potion, so he would have to suffer through every full moon with the savagery of a beast.

But he had not expected to be able to hear the thoughts of his wolfish counterpart. Communication between the two entities in a werewolves body had not mentioned in any book he had read on the subject, if it had he probably would have been able to invent a somewhat better, hmm, what was the word? Ah yes, sedative, than he had come up with, perhaps he would even be able to manage a cure. A brief thought that he might have gone mad flitted through his mind, but he doubted it. If ten years of teaching irritating little sods that didn't want to learn could not drive him insane then nothing could.

Truth be told, the situation had not yet sank in, but he hoped that it would when he was alone. At least then he could break things in privet. And if it didn't? Well, he would snap at people and then break something latter.

_Alpha?_ He presumed that it was addressing him, since at the moment he held dominance over their shared body for the longest amount of time. He knew it would most likely prove to be a bad idea, yet something in him cried out for him to cooperate with the monster within. And so he endeavoured to answer.

_Yes? _A yip of joy rang through him; the wolf obviously had been expecting to be snubbed.

_Who is she Alpha?_ It peeped excitedly._ Is she your mate? She's strong enough to be. _Severus's eyes widened in shock. What ever he had been expecting to be asked by the wolf, that was not it.

_No, she's not, _he snapped irritably. _She's a student. I teach her._ There was a pause, then another question.

_A subordinate?_

_Insubordinate more like._ There was another long pause before the wolf let out a cry of joy then seemed to bound around in his bone cage.

_You joke! _It cried happily._ You jest!_ It seemed that the wolf was still a pup, either that or easily excitable._ That's your affection! That's how you show it! You_ are _attracted to her!_

To say he was shocked by the wolf's declaration was an understatement. She was a student for Merlin's sake. "If you'll excuse me Draco." He took his hand from the worried teen's shoulder who turned slightly to look at him.

"Where are you going?"

"To break something," he answered curtly and honestly.

"Just sank in then?" Severus simply nodded, then turned away and strode out of the room. He had four hours to destroy his room and repair it again as many times as possible. Then, once he had done that he needed to talk to Lupin.

* * *

While things were smashed against the walls in the next room, and while Draco sat anxiously holding the hand of his only true friend as she lay sleeping and though she showed none of the usual signs of it, she was dreaming.

Dreaming of running through a forest glade, a black wolf whose shoulder reached her bust at her side and whose eyes glimmered the inky blue of long suffering and sadness. A sadness not entirely of his own making. True, bad choices had been made, but the sorrow in his soul had been born first of things not in his control. But the sadness was lifted only for a time by the company of his mate who was wolf and yet not wolf, wild and yet tame.

The dark soul, the black, blue eyed wolf elegantly ran at her side, the loneliness he had felt for what often seemed an eternity was something far away when he was with his mate. He loved her, and his greatest fear was tainting her. But she was brave, though he knew she was delicate, and she refused to leave him to his sorrow.

When she finally awoke, Hermione remembered nothing of her dream, but a wolf caged within the ribs of a man did remember, and it howled for the mans sadness.

* * *

A/N Please review. 


	2. Pictures on the Walls and Behind Blue Ey

Chapter Two: Pictures on the Walls and Behind Blue Eyes

_Hermione._

She was tired; she didn't want to wake up. If she woke up she would have to face everything again. She didn't want to see her father; she didn't want to hear her mother.

_Hermione._

Why couldn't they just let her sleep? Was that so much to ask? To be allowed to sleep and never wake up? She could live with only having darkness and dreams for company as long as the dreams were sweet and the darkness was soft.

_Hermione, come back to me._

She felt something soft brush against her forehead, a phantom touch that seemed real but at the same time unreal. No, it wasn't fair. That meant she was waking up.

_Bugger off. I want to sleep._

_Hermione, wake up. Please. It's been two days._

She didn't answer. She didn't move. Two days? Two days since what? Since he had come and . . . ? No. She would be hurting if that was case. Hurting where she should not hurt.

_You're safe. Please wake up. There's no one here to hurt you._

If no one was going to harm her, well, she supposed it might be alright to wake up. She murmured slightly and frowned. But what if it was a lie? She could wake, only to see _him _standing over her as though he had the right to do what he did.

_I'm not lying sweetheart. Please wake up._

At that her eyes sprang open. _Sweetheart!_ She exclaimed into Draco's mind as she tried to peer through the gloom of her room, but he wasn't there. She was alone. That was when she remembered what had happened. She remembered that they were linked, most likely permanently, and she found that it did not bother her nearly as much as it should have.

_I thought shock tactics might work, you lazy wench, _he joked, but she had felt the sincere caring behind his words. _Though I have to admit, I think the name suits you._

_Stuff it Dragon. If you call me anything but my name it will be Ghost. _He sniggered at her.

_Sorry Sweetheart. But as long as you call me Dragon I'll call you what ever I want to. You know I can't stand being called that. Every girl I've ever been with has called me it. I'd expect a little more originality from you. _There was true disdain behind his words, wrapped around his consciousness.

_It annoys you therefore I call you it. What would be the fun in calling you something you like?_

_I'm fairly certain Sweetheart annoys you. _Hermione cringed at the name.

_Fine. But I'm not calling you Draco, _she replied petulantly.

_Why not?_

_Because I'm bored with it. How about Wings?_

_No. _His reply was short, but clearly showed his dislike for the title.

_Angelus?_

_Do I look like a bloody vampire to you?_ Then after realising that he was certainly pale enough to be mistaken as such he quickly added,_ don't even think about answering that!_

_How did you know it was a vampire's name?_ She queried, genuinely interested and trying to picture Draco watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" but failing miserably. Oh well, it was still fun.

* * *

His study was not what most would expect of a Dark Lord. It was warm and inviting to those who sought knowledge, with book cases lining all but one wall. The wall where the ebony fireplace sat, with his heavy but practical oak desk pushed against the wall to its left. There was nothing that could be described as decoration, but it was not really needed. Everything in the room had some purpose, some practical use, a reason for being there. He hated it when a room was cluttered with useless objects. Even the rug, on the floor between the two high backed but thread bare armchairs served a purpose. It was a resting place for Nagini.

It had been two days since he had saved the life of Severus Snape. Despite what people thought of him, Voldemort was not a heartless monster. Severus had been like a son to him. He had been proud of the young man when he gained the title of Master under his guidance. He had been proud of him when he developed potion after potion, never ceasing in his passion for the art. But he had never felt such pride for someone until Severus had become a master of the Dark Arts, and then Herbology, though Herbology was simply to aid his potions work. Three Masterships. It was rare for someone to gain one, but three? That was outstanding. Voldemort himself had only two. And Severus was not simply well versed in academics. He could put his knowledge to practical use. Now that was a talent beyond rarity.

Then there was the part that the boy served in his life. He was a friend. Ever there with his sharp wit and sharper tongue. But he had one drastic fault. A conscience. Voldemort could have cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. His betrayal was as much the fault of the father as the son. He had known that Severus was aiding the other side before his first downfall, and he had turned a blind eye to it. All the while ensuring that no truly vital information fell into the boys' hands, though he knew he slipped once or twice.

He should have killed the boy. Not just when Severus's activities where noticed by Lucius, then brought to his attention. But years ago. As soon as he had uncovered it. But he had not been able to. Many where the times when he had slipped poison into the boys drink, only to have Nagini knock it from the table in the pretence of chasing some form of prey. Many were the times when he had sent Severus on a suicide mission, only to send reinforcements at the last possible minute. And the amount of times he had asked the boy to meet him in some deserted place or other, so that he could kill him from the shadows, only to falter at the breath before the curse and reveal himself was staggering. After a time he simply accepted that he was unable to kill him. So he protected him.

Oh he still got hurt, still got injured, punished for failure that was really purposeful negligence. But no grievous harm came to him. It was not long after his acceptance of his inability to kill Severus that Voldemort realised something quite disturbing.

He sighed heavily and waved his hand, igniting a fire under the mantle, the blaze reflecting forlornly in his red, snake like eyes. He gazed into it as he let his thoughts continue to wander to things that he had stubbornly pushed away for years.

Severus seemed to look for ways to force suffering, either emotional or physical, upon himself. Feeling guilty, or not believing in the pureblood rubbish he preached to entice followers was one thing. But going out of his way to punish himself was another. It was when he noticed this that he slowly began to reduce the missions he sent Severus's way which required him to kill or torture. Even the academic assignments he gave the boy were reduced in their malevolence. All in the hopes that Severus would one day come and confess his betrayal then return to him.

But that day did not come.

Instead Lucius discovered him. So his hand was forced. If he showed that treachery could go unpunished then a second downfall would be inevitable. He regretted doing what he had. Even while he was used as a spy against him, Severus had proven to be one of his most useful Death Eaters. Still he found that he could not kill the boy. No matter what Lucius said, in his black and withered heart, Voldemort still had a son in Severus Snape. But punishment still had to be served.

It had taken seconds for him to settle on using Greyback in his wolf form to reprimand the boy. He knew that because of what happened at Hogwarts in his sixth year Severus feared and hated werewolves. But that was not why he decided to use this punishment, though it was the reasoning he gave everyone else. His true reasons were that he still held on to the hope that Severus would return to him, the Prodacle son. If he was sound of mind and body he would better serve him. But there was also the element that Severus needed to be punished. He needed to feel that he had paid for his_ crimes_.

And so he was punished.

Voldemort wondered briefly if he remembered having a blood sample taken. It would be interesting to see how he differed from a normal werewolf. After all, people with vampire blood in them often reacted differently to such things. True, it was a dozen generations ago and the vampire had been all but bred out of his line, leaving only pallid skin and a liking for black clothes as the only Vampiric features to be noticeable, but it was still there. It was the reason he was violently allergic to a compound in the wolfsbane potion.

Though he had to admit, he wondered how the blood would react with his new pets. But first he would keep an eye on Severus. Dumbledore was not the only one who could utilise a guilty conscience.

* * *

Slowly, Hermione climbed from her bed. She still ached from using her healing power and she grudgingly admitted that Draco was right. Her seizure and the after affects were the worst she had ever been subjected to. She was shaking, Hermione noted dully as she stood and watched her hands tremble slightly. Well, she would not be drawing for a while.

In small shaky steps she approached her door, refusing to submit to more time in bed now that she was awake. She was going to have a nice long relaxing bath, then get dressed and spend some time curled up on one of the couches with a frothy hot chocolate and a book, not caring that it was the middle of summer. The Noble House of Black was always freezing anyway.

With a sigh she opened the door. Only to see Draco leaning on the frame, his platinum blond hair slicked back, dressed in the elegant muggle clothes he always wore, with an eyebrow arched, his greyish silver eyes watching her sternly. "Where do you think you're going?" He asked firmly.

"For a bath, now move it or I'll walk through you, and I assure you it feels really gross," she replied, defiance hinting in her voice and swamping her friend. Draco frowned, clearly showing his concern.

"Hermione, are you in any way strong enough to do this?"_ Your weakness is so bad it's almost toppling me._ She glared at him.

"Exactly how much strength does it take to have a bath then get dressed and read with a cup of hot chocolate?" _Is it my fault you're not as stubborn as me when it comes to avoiding being stuck in a bed?_ She added with a sneer, disappointed that he thought so little of her. _I've been in far worse states and still managed to have a bath._ Draco frowned, clearly unhappy about her stubborn steadfastness, but also uncomfortable at having her refer to her situation so easily.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But I'm helping you to the bathroom." _Complain and I'll carry you. _He warned seriously.

She rolled her eyes but let him take her arm. She was soon thankful for the support and leaned on him heavily as he guided her. _When did you become so overprotective?_

_When you let me in. I saw the scars on your heart, I don't want to see anymore of them appear._ Hermione frowned. True, she had not had the easiest life, but there were people far worse of than she was. _I could not give a crap about those people, _Draco announced in to her mind. They really needed to figure out how to keep their private thoughts private. _I don't know any of those people, but I know you, and you're my friend. I don't want to see you get hurt again._

_. . . Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?_ She joked, praying that he would accept the change in subject.

He simply smiled and shook his head, taking the hint that she did not want to talk about it. She always got uncomfortable when people said they cared about her.

Two hours later Hermione had been in the bath and come out smelling very strongly of lavender, not to mention much sturdier on her feet, she was dressed in a simple tee shirt and a pair of jeans and was blissfully living out her fantasy of sitting curled up with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and a potions book. A book that kept striking a nerve. Though she had never actually read it, it seemed very familiar and she could not quite place why. She had simply grabbed it off the shelf and dropped onto to the couch with it.

Then she realised why it seemed familiar when she read a chapter title. "To Stopper Death". She winced. Slowly and grimacing all the while, she turned the book over. It was a heavy tome, but fairly recent compared to most texts that were circulated in the wizarding world. Only about twelve years old, and very advanced, filled with what had been ground breaking potions at the time. She swore quietly as her fears were confirmed. The author was none other than her sodding potions teacher. He was very good, she realised. She had known that Snape had done an astounding amount for the field of potions, but she had never expected to stumble across any of his published work. Let alone in a house that belonged to Sirius Black.

Sighing, Hermione stood up and returned the book to the shelf, resolving to read it at a time when she could not be seen by the author and get accused of being an insufferable know it all, or simply a nosey cow. She scanned the shelf once again, this time ensuring that she looked at the authors name to make sure she did not inadvertently pick up another one of Snapes. She was surprised to see that there was another five of them, and even more surprised to see that one of them concentrated solely on his research into the wolfs bane potion. She was tempted to read it, but she picked up a book about transfiguration instead. Then narrowly avoided being accidentally shoved out of the way by the very potions Master whose work she had just been reading.

She hadn't even heard him come in. But he was now hurriedly scanning the book shelves, his outer robe missing. Hermione was suddenly struck be how Victorian wizarding fashion was. His trousers and shoes were normal enough but his shirt was high collared and the sleeves billowed, he also wore a greenish black waist coat that was far more casual than anything she had ever seen him in, even if it was intricately embroidered and made to be very noticeable over the white of his shirt.

His fingers flirted over the titles and his brow was furrowed. "Just how much lavender oil did you use in your bath Miss Granger?" Her eyebrows rose in a combination of shock at his question and at his _almost_ less than cold tone. When he noticed that no answer was forthcoming he looked at the startled young woman over his should and smirked. "I could smell you from upstairs and I heard you run the water when I was in the kitchen. It seems that the senses are heightened not just in the wolf form but in the human as well." He turned back to shelf. "Just another little bit of information the books leave out. Come to think of it so did all the werewolves I spoke to when developing the wol- Ah. Here it is."

He snatched a book from the shelf and stood up straight. Just before he began to greedily flick through it she glimpsed the title. "Wolfs Bane". He noticed her raised eyebrow and smirked again. "I threw my notes out. Thought they would be of no further use, not only that but they were verging on indecipherable. Even I had difficulty reading them."

_Draco, Snape's being nice to me. _

"So how far did you get before you realised I was the author?" He asked, still smirking as he tapped the book she had just returned. Oh Merlin, he was . . . he was . . . _chirpy_.

"Chapter fourteen," she replied blushing and looking away as well as secretly suppressing a shudder. _Draco, I'm scared._ "To Stopper Death, it's what gave it way. Your opening speech in first year." Draco laughed into her mind.

_I should have warned you, he gets sort of happy when he finds an academic challenge. He's weird like you that way._

"Impressive. Draco got to chapter twenty three and I was sat across the room from him. Needless to say I found it quite amusing." After that he returned to flicking through the book. "Useless," he murmured quietly, "rubbish," he turned more pages, "pointless waffle."

_Now he's slagging off his own book._ Hermione watched in a combination of shock and horror as he tossed the book over his shoulder.

_He does that pretty often, _Draco assured her.

"Utter rubbish." His attention turned back to the book shelf. "None of it taken into account." He paused then looked to Hermione and smiled. It was the weirdest thing she had ever seen in her life.

"You're supposedly intelligent. Perhaps you could be of some use." She arched her eyebrow at him yet again. Now he was giving her backhanded compliments? "If there are two entities in one body, what is the best way of eradicating one of them?" Her eyes widened in horror as she heard a howl and a yip pulled at her heart. Snape flinched. She had to stop him from killing the wolf.

"It's not two separate entities!" Her voice was more panicked than she would have liked, but it certainly caught his attention. He gave a slight laugh. How was she going to explain this?

"How would you-"

"I'm slightly empathic," she interrupted. Empathy was not a rarity in the women of the wizarding world, so it was certainly believable. His eyebrow arched yet again. "I only feel the strong emotions that other people feel. Like when you were brought back. I felt a split. The wolf is a part of you, it's just been sort of, ripped away a little."

He frowned. Then his lips quirked into another smile. "You and Draco are bonded together aren't you? I wondered what he was hiding from me. It would explain your inexplicable friendship with him. And his rather sudden over protectiveness of you. I take it you finally came to fully trust him the night I was, well, _split_, as you put it?" Ignoring Draco swearing quite vehemently into her mind, she gaped at her professor. "You need not be ashamed of it. A linking like yours is rare but very useful. I suppose the boy is . . . gifted similarly to you?"

_Tell him._ She wasn't used to feeling Draco so despondent. He seemed resigned to some awful situation.

Hermione sighed and looked away. "He can grow wings, what they look like depends on how he feels. And he can tell what has happened to people and how they'll react to things just by watching them for a little while. He calls it his logical imagination."

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Is there anything else?"

"Not that we know of, but his wings are strange. They don't seem normal. We still have not figured out what's different about them." She knew she had permission to tell him this, but it still didn't feel right. It felt as though she was betraying her friend.

"Hmmmm, that is interesting." Another small smile quirked at his lips. "Once I've exhausted the research into my current condition I would be quite interested to see if these are magical abilities that you and Draco have, or if they are human. It could be as simple as evolution." He frowned in thought for a second or so. "With your permission I should like to study you and your abilities."

"Erm, of course," _just stop being nice to me. It's creeping me out._

He frowned and quirked his head to the side. Hermione felt something stir, but not in her. In Snape. He rolled his eyes at something then shook his head in an oddly fond way. "Did Lupin have anything useful to tell you about, well." Snapes lip curled slightly, but not in the menacing way she was used to.

"Not in the sli- I am such a fool. Miss Granger, I meant to do this when I returned, but you were . . . indisposed."

He sighed heavily. What in the name of Merlin was he talking about? "How is your neck?"

"My neck? Oh!" She had all but forgotten about that. "Bruised, but other wise fine." He sighed, his relief strong enough for her to feel herself.

"I apologise. I truly thought that everyone would just let me leave."

"It was as much my fault as yours. I saw how determined you were, and I could have ghosted out of your hand."

"Why didn't you?" She faltered; she really did not want to tell him. But is inky eyes were staring at her; she knew he would find out through means fair or foul, so she might as well just tell him anyway.

"Because I trust you." Now it was his turn to be surprised. "I knew that you would not hurt me. Not really."

"I was throttling you, and you trusted me not to hurt you?" She blushed and looked away. Unsure of how to explain what she did not really understand herself. So she settled for not explaining at all.

"And you didn't. You stopped before you did anything that could have really harmed me."

Snape stood and scrutinized her with a furrowed brow for what seemed like hours. In reality she had no idea how long it was. It could have been seconds or it could have been days. All she knew was that it worried her somewhat. She felt as though he was examining her under a microscope, looking at her every flaw and weakness. Seeing what she did not want people to see. And certainly what she did not want him to see.

Eventually he simply shook his head. He seemed disappointed for some reason. Then she realised why. She had made it sound as though she would let anyone do that as long as she had some sort of respect for them. Hermione narrowed her eyes into a glare and boldly directed it at Snape. The dark professor's eyes widened in what could have been shock. "If you think that because I let you get away with choking me once that I'll let anyone injure me you could not be further from the truth!" She found herself snarling, suddenly very angry and not sure why or even if it was her and not Draco that was angry. "I assure you that if you try that again you won't be conscious for very long." then she added with a sinister smile, "extended ghosting through people seems to have that effect on them."

"I'm glad to hear you threatening me rather than trying to ignore the incident," he sneered, now back to what Hermione perceived as normal and she was bloody thankful for it. "Had you not done so I would have thought you one of those simpleton women who allow men to walk all over them."

"I'm anything but. Ask Draco if you don't believe me. I'm not one to let others rule me." Why was she so annoyed? She could have easily explained herself without having to threaten him.

"Ah yes, Draco. You may want to learn to block out his emotions. He tends to get very angry, very easily, as you are probably noticing now."

Yes, she felt it now. It was coming from Draco. She was never this short tempered. _Draco, calm down. You've no reason to be angry._

_I have every reason to be frigging angry! I've just spilt bloody pumpkin juice on my note book!_

Snape watched with interest, it was obvious that he could tell Hermione was talking to Draco and he seemed to take the time to study her in a more academic light. Though admittedly only half of Hermione's attention was on her professor. She was more concerned about trying to get Draco to not throw a fit.

_The one you write your poetry in?_ A mental growl affirmed it for her and she bit her lower lip.

"I take it something has happened up stairs." Wonderful, he was back to being weird and nice. Odd. Just odd.

"Err, yeah. Excuse me professor. I just have to make sure Draco doesn't destroy anything."

* * *

Severus watched as Granger hurriedly left the room, the scent of lavender still firmly hooked into his nose. It was getting quite irritating really. Though not because the smell was unpleasant, more because the wolf in him refused to let the subject of Miss Granger drop as the scent kept reminding it of the girl. After a moment of watching a closed door and listening to her soft footsteps run up the stairs he turned back to the shelf.

_Do you really want to get rid of me Alpha?_ The wolf whined from his ribcage, causing the bones to hum beneath his flesh.

_It's not so much getting rid of you as getting you under control._ Soothed the dark potions Master. _I don't want to hurt anyone at the full moon._

_Why the full moon? What happens then? _Severus sighed and scanned the shelf for any book he could find that might prove useful.

_At the full moon you take over my body. Though you do not seem it now, you will become violent and attack any humans you can. Failing that you will turn on your own flesh and tear at that._ A stunned silence rang through him. It seemed that the wolf did not know its own nature.

_I . . . would . . . I don't . . . Why would I do any of that?_

_I don't know. _He slid a thin book from the shelf_. But we will find out in twenty five days. I'm sorry Wolf, but I can't let myself hurt anyone. I would rather you rip my body to shreds than an innocents._

Silence again. Then finally the wolf spoke in a soft and diminished tone, almost a whimper. _Nightshade. My name is Nightshade, not Wolf. But I still don't understand. So far what I have seen and smelt of humans has given me no reason to wish them harm, let alone inflict it upon them._

_I do have a theory. _The wolf, or Nightshade as he wished to be called, paid rapt attention, as though he was staring at a treat and believed that if he looked away for one moment it would be snatched away. _It could be something in the moons light that brings out your savage side. Or perhaps when you take over my body your senses are so heightened it drives you temporarily insane._

_You are hopeless at reassuring your pack,_ the wolf told him blandly after a long pause.

_It's not something I tend to do very often._

_So I've noticed, except for where the young Alpha Female is involved I've almost never heard you say a kind word to anyone. Though admittedly most don't deserve a kind word._

Snape gave a heavy sigh and rolled his eyes_. Could at least attempt subtlety? Rather than shamelessly bringing the girl into the conversation at every opportunity._ He could practically feel the hound smirking at his words.

_Is it my fault that you're in denial about her significance? _Severus very nearly growled at Nightshade for that.

_She has no significance to me other than a fascinating research opportunity._ He gave a heavy sigh, returned the book to its rightful place and pulled a different book from the shelf, listlessly turning it over in his hands. There could be something useful in it, but he doubted it. From what he had seen and experienced so far, the books were all wrong. Unless. . .

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Idiot of the highest order. Forgetting something as crucial as that. One simple fact that could throw away every piece of knowledge he had gathered so far and see it burn within a blast furnace.

He had forgotten his own damned heritage. The mere trickle of vampire blood in him that constantly interfered with his reactions to potions and certain spells. The blood from over ten generations ago. It was such a small part of him that he rarely remembered it straight away. But it was a part of him that meant he would have to start his research into his new condition from scratch and first work out the difference it caused between him and a normal werewolf, if there was such a thing. It could have made the condition stronger in him.

Suddenly he did not feel like looking into his Lycanthropcey at the moment. He needed his guitar.

* * *

Her hands were still shaking slightly. She was stronger than she had been when he woke but she was yet to recover fully. She was tired as well. Even though she had only been awake for a few hours, but she refused to go back to bed until at least nine o'clock. Draco was in his own room, painstakingly repairing his notebook and copying his poems into another that Hermione had spelled to be waterproof and only soak up ink when it was from the tip of a quill.

She had passed a few people on her way up. They had looked at her oddly as she made a mad dash past them. There had been some she had not recognised, but she had defiantly seen Moody, Lupin, Mr and Mrs Weasly and Tonks, obviously waiting for an Order meeting to start. But she had paid them little heed. And now she sat, wishing her hands were steady so that she could add to the pictures on her walls.

She knew that Snape had been in her room. Draco had told her that he had. She also knew that he had not paid too much attention to the pictures on her walls, and she was eternally thankful for that. Though the ones she had on display were not quite as revealing as the ones hidden away in her portfolios, she was still uncomfortable at the thought of anyone but Draco casting a critical eye over what she felt was her soul and her release.

It was about noon when she heard it. It snatched her from her drowsy state. A soft plucking. Melodic and well played and oh so familiar. Her curiosity piqued as she rose from her chair. She could tell that it was guitar, but she thought that no one who stayed at Grimuld Place could play. She followed the sound out her room and to the half open doorway of the next. When she peered through the frame she was amazed and slightly startled by what she saw.

Snape was leaning back on a chair by the window, with his legs crossed at the ankles and resting on the sill. A guitar was resting on his lap and he was methodically finger picking. He spared her a glance, giving passive permission for her to stay as he played, his cobalt blue eyes gleaming slightly in the light. She leaned against the frame, watching as the sad music flowed over her. Then he began to sing. His voice was nothing like she would have expected from him. It was soft almost, but with a gravely texture that was perfect for rock music.

"_No one knows what it's like  
To be the bad man  
To be the sad man  
Behind blue eyes"_

The truth of his words rang through her with a power that alerted Draco. She felt his presence pick up from disinterest to fascination. It seemed that Draco did not know about Snapes talent either.

"_No one knows what it's like  
To be hated  
To be fated  
To telling only lies"_

The self loathing in his softly sung words stung Hermione to the core. Even after all he had done to help people, be it discreetly and with a mass amount of scathing remarks, he still felt as though he was beyond redemption.

"_But my dreams  
They aren't as empty  
As my conscience seems to be"_

He seemed lost in his music. His dark eyes unfocused on the world around him. And that was when she felt it, perhaps heard it.

"_I have hours, only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That's never free"_

A soft whining, wolfish and begging her attention. Then a voice. _Alpha? Alpha female?_

"_No one knows what it's like  
To feel these feelings  
Like I do  
And I blame you"_

She answered before shock could even begin to set in. _Who are you? Why did you call me that?_

"_No one bites back as hard  
On their anger  
None of my pain and woe  
Can show through_"

_I am Nightshade_. He, It, answered softly. _The wolf within the dark one you watch, and I called you that because to me you are the Alpha Female, despite what Alpha Male thinks is right. _Nightshade, a poisonous plant. Fitting for a Potions Master and ex-spy.

"_But my dreams  
They aren't as empty  
As my conscience seems to be"_

Hermione's brow creased. This was Snapes' inner wolf? If so, then why would it think she was an "Alpha Female". _You are strong and my host is attracted to you, though he won't admit it. This makes you worthy to be his mate. But he refuses to see this. Why?_

"_I have hours, only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That's never free"_

As the soft finger picking turned in to harsh strumming and Snapes voice became more powerful and passionate, the living ghost endeavoured to answer the wolf, finding that she was becoming quite fond of the creature. _I'm his student. To humans that makes an attraction or a relationship between us inappropriate._

"_When my fist clenches, crack it open  
Before I use it and lose my cool  
When I smile, tell me some bad news  
Before I laugh and act like a fool"_

The wolf growled. _Humans can be idiots. You're of adult hood, as is he. What would be wrong with the pair of you forming a true pack? _

"_If I swallow anything evil  
Put your finger down my throat  
If I shiver, please give me a blanket  
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat"_

The contact faded as an angry wolf retreated back into his host and Snape once again began to finger pick, his voice became calmer, less angry and more sorrowful.

"_No one knows what it's like  
To be the bad man  
To be the sad man  
Behind blue eyes"_

Slowly, the finger picking came to a halt. The dark professor lethargically turned his gaze upon Hermione. The inky depth of his eyes seemed to be searching for her opinion. Nervousness crept up her spine and she bit her lip out of habit. It had been beautiful, even though The Who's original version of "Behind Blue Eyes" was not strictly meant to be. But she was unnerved by it. She had never had to come face to face with the human side of Snape before, and now she had it felt as though she had seen something that she should not have. Something deeply private.

That was what turned her away from telling him all she thought about his playing. Instead she mumbled the quiet praise of, "you're very talented," then softly closed the door and left, feeling scared, bemused but above all else inspired. Then it hit her. He had allowed her to peer at his soul, now she would be expected to do the same for him. She knew she could get away with simply showing him the pictures that she displayed in her room, but it did not feel right.

No. When he came to look, she would show him everything. Even her hidden portfolios.

* * *

Nightshade crouched in his home and prison, surrounded by a comfortable darkness. He had searched through all of Alpha Males memories, with permission of course, in the hopes of finding something that would explain why the Alpha Female was not to be touched in the way of a mate. Instead he had only become further convinced of the stupidity of humans. They had pointless rules in place with the harshest of consequences. Such as killing an attacker from a rival pack could end with the defender being imprisoned with foul soul sucking creatures for the rest of their life. Yet another foolish thing was allowing interbreeding within magical families. It could and had lead to sickly offspring and a weakening of the pack.

Overall the wolf's view of humanity was bleak to say the least. He still had no idea why his host was forbidden from starting a pack with the strong female who was wolf yet not wolf, wild and yet tame. He only knew that it was not allowed. Even though any cubs she bore would be powerful and invaluable to the pack. Silently he pitied humans for their unnecessarily complicated nature. He could tell that most longed for the clean and simple life of the wild, but were held a prisoner of there own flesh.

Slowly his thoughts turned to how he had managed to reach out to the Alpha Female's mind. It had been difficult, but a far cry from the impossible that he had expected. And yes he loved her. But not in the way the Alpha Male loved her. Nightshade loved her in a way that only a subordinate wolf could. With the affection of a loyal and honest family member and a willing but unneeded guardian. It was a powerful love, but a love that had its right place within the pack. Their conversation had been brief true, but it had been enough to further convince him that she was worthy of the Alpha Male. She had been patient and caring, and she had even tried to explain the situation without patronising him. Her mentality was right and she was already pack bound to one of her own kind. It felt like a sibling, though the other male could just as easily have been a very close friend.

Shaking his phantom head, the wolf lay down to rest as his human, the Alpha Male, set to work on analysing a long strand of his fur.

* * *

A/N Please review. 


	3. Mother and Daughter

Chapter Three: Mother and Daughter

"Severus, while I do feel grateful that you have finally consented to a truce, how much longer are you going to be this obsessed with researching our affliction?" The dark wolf looked to the weary Remus, silently feeling sorry for his haggard appearance. His piercing blue eyes were sleepily half closed and he looked even more worn out than usual, not to mention grey was steadily infiltrating the brown hair on his head. And Severus had thought that he looked bad for thirty eight.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," he answered shortly returning his attention to his gently simmering potion. "The test result will be exactly the same whether or not you're here to see it come out."

"I'm well aware of that but I don't think that it's healthy for you to be around this much silver, especially if your sensitivity is increased like you think it is." Unfortunately the yawn at the end ruined the stern warning.

"Remus, I'm touched. I didn't know you cared," as Remus had discovered, sarcastic banter was the way Severus showed any fondness he might hold, however small it might be. "It's normally only Miss Granger who attempts reprimand me for my negligence towards my health. Though her words are more along the lines of "I've already had one seizure, so if you think I'm going to have another because of you I'll charge." True she uses far coarser language than I'm willing to utter, but she makes her point quite eloquently."

The eyebrows of the other werewolf rose considerably. "She swears at you?" Severus had never heard Remus sound so utterly astounded. He smirked.

"Swore, she only did it once. But she has threatened to render me unconscious if I forget to take care of myself." Remus rolled his eyes.

"I'm surprised you let her talk to you like that and walk away unscathed." Severus snorted at the other wolves comment.

"Shall we see how you fair under the wrath of that insufferable little know it all?" Then after a slight pause he added a fond statement. "I was so proud of her glare and her gall. Not a single student has ever attempted to put me in my place and succeeded, until she came in here yesterday to tell me that Molly had finished cooking and saw the large amount of silver I had on the desk." The other mans jaw hung open as he stared at Severus.

"Are you actually starting to _like_ Hermione?"

"She's a complete cow, of course I am. Not to mention I'm studying her rather peculiar talent. Though she seems to find me quite unnerving when I'm in a good mood."

"I find you unnerving when you're in a good mood," pointed out the brown wolf. "I suspect that only Draco is not disturbed by you being good natured, and that's only because he's used to it."

The scent of the potion changed from metallic to the slightest hint of sandalwood and Severus peered over at it then sighed heavily whilst shaking his head. "Any use?" Asked Remus curiously with a slight tone of hope in his voice.

"None what so ever." He sighed again. "I suppose I'd better get something to eat then turn in before I give Granger a chance to make good on her threat, as I have every confidence that she would make good on her threat." With a lethargic wave of his wand he cleared away the pointless test result out of his caldron.

"What ever gave you that impression?" Remus asked with interest. Severus found his lip curling at the memory.

"Two days ago she threatened to hug me for over ten minutes if I kept annoying her." He gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered just how many people saw her attached to him. "So, like the stubborn man I am, I kept annoying her." Remus started to quietly snicker. "She did not let go for half an hour and when I tried to push her off my hands just went straight through her. At least twelve people saw us." Suddenly the snickers were full blown hysterical laughter.

Severus rolled his eyes. The wolfs reaction had been identical to what Draco had done when he walked in on him trying to remove Miss Granger from her post at his waist. "Goodbye Lupin. I need to get something from Granger before I've finished for the night, but you're welcome to stay here." Hopefully he would laugh himself to death.

And with those words, Severus left the makeshift potions laboratory and set off up the stairs for Grangers room, leaving Remus rolling around on the floor, laughing like a mad man.

* * *

It had been a week since Hermione suffered her seizure and she watched as her hands slowed their pace of trembling. It had been an act of sheer stubbornness and will power that kept her out of bed for the three days after she woke up, and it was those same traits that now steadied her hands. She clenched her fists. They stopped trembling. She opened them, only for them to start their irritating shaking again. She sighed and shook her head in defeat.

She hadn't been able to draw for far too long and it was beginning to get to her. She had an image burning away in her mind and she wanted, no, she needed to put it on to paper. Not only this but she could not very well approach the worlds leading potions Master and ask for an apprenticeship with hands that were not even steady enough to prepare food with.

Yes, Hermione had finally gone insane. She had been contemplating trying to get an apprenticeship in potions for over a year, but she had also decided to wait until after Hogwarts and go absolutely no where near Snape ever again unless she strictly had to. Now however, after five days of watching him work with a passion she had never seen in anyone before, as well as how keenly his instincts were tuned into what he was doing, she was contemplating the academic equivalent of suicide. That's right, the most intelligent witch to grace Hogwarts since Rowena Ravenclaw was about to do the most idiotic thing possible, and ask Master Severus Snape of potions, Herbology and, the little known and ever so slightly illegal, Dark Arts, if she could apprentice under him for potions.

But not just yet. She needed to wait until she had steady hands before she humiliated herself. On the bright side he was required to test her skill and if he found her to be adequate, by law if he refused to take her on he had to aid her finding someone who would. So all she really had to worry about was miserably failing what ever test he may set for her. Which was likely since she knew exactly what that test was.

It was the same for any who came to him seeking to become his apprentice and not one person had ever managed to complete it to satisfactory standards. The first part was hardest. He set a potion to be brewed in under a week; though the actual potion was horribly complicated, it only took two hours to brew. Gathering the ingredients however was easily close to impossible. Well, one of the ingredients was. Two phoenix feathers given freely less than two days before they went into the potion. The only phoenix for miles was Fawks and he was notoriously possessive of his feathers. Only two people had managed to obtain the feathers, and then they had botched the potion so completely that they did not dare show their faces in the dungeons for months afterwards and their nerve had gone when it came to brewing a potion. The other factor was that the potion was archaic and no book had the instructions or even a mention of it, so it was completely new to the brewer.

Snape was a hard man to please, but that was because he held such high standards in place. Not to mention he wanted to ensure that the next generation of potions Masters were just as good as, if not better than the last. An apprenticeship with him was highly sought after yet had never been bestowed. He was not entirely unfair though. If someone who could not obtain the feathers tried to improvise in the potion and impressed him with their ingenuity he would send them on to another Master, though he had only done so three times out of hundreds.

There was a nock on her door, and the simple precision of it told her who it was. _Speak of the devil and he appears at your door, literally_, she thought dully. She knew that once she invited him in she would have to show him her world of pencil shading and watercolour, but she was ready for it. "Come in," she called quietly, but she knew he had heard because of his heightened senses. The door creaked open slowly and dark form of Severus Snape stepped into her room, watching her curiously as she sat on her bed, leaning against the wall in her dimly lit domain.

* * *

Of course when he had told Remus that he needed to get something from Grangers room, Severus had meant that he needed to see something and he finally thought that the girl was ready to let him look. The first time he had been in her temporary bed room he had known exactly why she had covered her walls in her own art work. It was exactly same reason he played his guitar. For security and release from her past, though what she could be trying to escape from he would only know if she showed him the drawing that where no doubt hidden away somewhere in a folder or portfolio. He doubted that she would let him look that far into what she most likely felt was the mirror of her soul, after all, he had only let her listen to one song. True, it was the one song he could relate to most, more so when he had been a spy.

He stepped into the room as she sat on her bed, leaning into the corner, watching him with a guarded expression. He looked slightly from side to side with interest. She stiffened, waiting for his request. Her heart pounded wildly in his ears as he turned his attention to her. "Do you mind if I look at these?" Severus asked politely, gesturing to her drawings. Granger swallowed hard and nodded, obviously not trusting her voice. After giving her a small, but warm smile, which he noted dismally only made her more nervous, he walked confidently over to the closest wall and the closest drawings.

_What are they, Alpha?_ Nightshade seemed genuinely curious about the art work covering almost all of the walls.

_Drawings that Granger,_ then at the wolfs puzzlement he amended to_ Alpha Female, has created. _He could almost feel Nightshade cock his head in bewilderment. _Pictures she has put on parchment, like writing only more appealing to the eye, well, some times._

_They look real, apart from the ones with big eyes and pointy noses. They have odd hair as well._ A smile twitched at Severus's mouth. He had not thought that Granger would be interested in drawing manga style, though she was very good at it.

_They're supposed to be like that, it's a Japanese style of drawing._

The scenes that littered her wall were odd to say the least. It seemed that the littlest things grabbed her attention the most as many of the drawings were of lessons or things that many would see as mundane, showing that she obviously valued such times. He was quite surprised to see the odd comic strip drawn in a manga style and stopped to read one or two of them. He was even more surprised to note that he showed up in some of those comics, mostly insulting a terrified Neville, though he did come across one in which Hermione depicted herself daydreaming about setting his robes on fire during one such episode. She looked to be in about her third year and thoroughly enjoying her little space out. He chuckled quietly and shook his head slightly. _Is that you? _Asked Nightshade, sensing his amusement.

_Yes it is, aren't the fantasies my students have of me so endearing? _The wolf began to snigger, attempting to stifle his laughter.

Next to that there was a fairly large real life drawing of impressive detail showing Granger punching Draco in the nose, taking pride of place as the walls centre piece. The drawing was harsh and dark, even though both of its occupants were pale and the shadows seemed to show a satisfying complete loss of control on Grangers part. _I thought Alpha Female and the Winged One were friends?_

_They are, but they were enemies once, they absolutely hated each other and he used to bully her. _The shock he felt from the wolf was near overwhelming.

_But, they are pack bound._ _How could they have been enemies once and be close to one creature now?_

_You'll have to ask her, but as you have complained to me many times, humans are too complicated for their own good._

When he moved onto the next wall, the mood of the drawings changed dramatically. Gone was the happiness and light feelings of her art work. Here was the true mechanics of her mind, and it was dark to say the least. _Not dark, wolf._ Corrected Nightshade. And the more he looked the more he found himself agreeing. There was wildness, savage and filled with survival instincts held captive within the paper. He could not pick out specific drawing, that harsh detail made his head spin and his eyes blur simply from looking at it. There seemed to be little emotion, only instinct. Instinct to protect, instinct to survive and instinct to get what she wanted, even if what she wanted was not entirely ethical, or legal for that matter. There was an underlying feeling of loyalty to those who deserved it whirling through his sense and somehow ended up being translated to loyalty to the pack. The girl was almost as much of a wolf as Nightshade. By the time he reached the end of that wall he was so disorientated by the animalistic instincts surging forward in him that he was almost convinced the wolf had appeared.

Then, with no warning what so ever he was snapped back to humanity with little to no memory of the images he had seen. A soft whimpering in his mind showed that Nightshade had been similarly affected. _Are you alright?_ Worry perforated the tone of the man, though why he was worried about the result of a werewolf attack he had no idea, he just knew that he was getting quite attached to him.

_How did she make them do that? _Whined the wolf. _Was it magic? I could not scent any._

_No, it was skill at her art which brought that about, there was no spell involved._

After a deep breath to steady himself, Severus turned a cautious eye onto the drawings on the third wall. They were far softer, but filled with sorrow and anger. Some of them were fairly recent he noted, basing his theory on the slight change in the maturity of her style and the fact that she looked older in the drawings. But her expression was almost always downcast or narrow eyed. But other times it was simply hopeless. There were fewer manga drawings here he noticed. She must only draw them when she is in a good mood or doesn't want something to seem quite as real. _She seems very burdened by something. Do you think she has the explanation in a drawing somewhere on the walls? _Asked Nightshade, concern for the girl ringing through him.

_She'll have it in a drawing, but it will be hidden away somewhere, and I get the feeling that whatever caused her to become so close to wolf and depressed is very drastic._ The wolf growled in agreement.

He looked over the rest of her artwork as quickly as possible, never seeing one drawing that was substandard or sloppy. Some he could tell had simply been drawn to pass the time or for her own amusement, but most held some overly powerful emotion behind them. Whether that emotion was positive or negative was pure chance, though there were at least three times as many negative as positive. It was unnerving to see that such a happy and annoyingly optimistic girl had such a grim outlook on life. He was almost glad to be finished and was left feeling uneasy, and certainly as though he should never have peered into Grangers world of pencil and paint. Some things were meant to be kept privet, he realised now, though all too late, that the artwork Granger surrounded herself with was one of those things.

He had no idea to what to say to her and so stood, his eyes not quite looking towards her, opening and closing his mouth, trying to force the words to come. Finally he settled on the young woman's own words. "You're very talented," he muttered quietly, bowing his head slightly and turning to leave, but he was stopped dead in his tracks after the first step.

"Wait."

* * *

Her professor froze as Hermione climbed from her bed. She knew her heart was beating wildly with fear, but she did not care. This was something she had to do; she had only become more convinced of that when she saw his reaction to her drawings. He looked over his shoulder to her. His expression nonchalant, but she could see the pleading in it. He knew what was coming and he did not want to see it. From the looks of it he already felt as though he had seen too much. But she needed to show him. She did not want to hide anything from him, though she was unsure of her reasoning.

With a deep breath Hermione walked over to her desk and reached behind it. She pulled out an A3 size blue plastic wallet portfolio. It was light and thin thanks to a certain number of spells. Without the magic it would take over a dozen of these portfolios to display her desperate work.

Biting her lip she looked over to Snape. "Miss Granger, are you certain you wish to show that to me? I have no doubt that it is very personal." She had never heard the potions Master sound so uncomfortable. It was even more unnerving than his sudden good mood. She bit her lip harder, perhaps a little too hard, but failed to react to the pain.

"I think it's only fair you understand the reason behind the," she frowned as she searched for the right word, and then finally came across one she deemed suitable, causing her frown to deepen, "savagery, that drives some of my pictures."

"It is unnecessary I assure you." Could she hear panic in his voice?

"Please, just take it." She knew that there was pleading in hers.

"I don't think I should. Some things are not meant to seen by those who did not have a hand in its' creation."

"I'm asking you to look through this." Why was she suddenly so desperate to have her soul lain bear before this man.

"I can't Granger." Now there was note of pleading in his.

"Don't make me beg. Please. Just look at them. For my sanity. So I know I'm not the only one who sees them."

* * *

An uneasy feeling had spread through Nightshade and his host throughout the conversation. It was like the anxiety that came when waiting to be pounced on. Looking out through the Alpha Males eyes, the wolf was disturbed. He had never seen the young Alpha Female so shaky, she reminded him of a trapped rabbit with a fox staring it in the eye. Her breath was rugged and laboured, her heart was beating erratically and the scent of fear was drifting from her like a strong perfume.

It was obvious that whatever was in that big blue thing was drastic. He could smell the ink and parchment, as well as an oilier scent that he could not place. So he knew there were more of those pictures in it. But why were the humans so tense about them? Where these the pictures that the Alpha Male had mentioned? The ones that showed how and why the Alpha Female had become wolf. If so then they should be looked at and vengeance taken for the pack. So why then did both of them hesitate?

Perhaps it was a weakness of humans. That emotion clouds things of such importance. Contrary to what most believed wolves did feel things such as fear, happiness, anger and all other emotions, they just did not let them get in the way of what must be done. So he too felt the dread creep through him that the Alpha Male felt, but he still knew that the blue thing should be looked at.

He frowned as the pair stood motionless, staring at each other, both praying that the other would give in to their demands. _Alpha_, mewed the wolf softly, persuasively, _we should take it. The pack needs this to be whole. To be true pack you must understand her._

_I've no interest in being a pack with her._

_The fact that you are in the same den, fighting against the same pack, proves that you need to be pack to stand strong. You are new to the way of the wolf, but that is what rules both you and the Alpha Female. Accept this and take what she offers you, for whether you wish it or not you are pack!_

The feeling of begrudging agreement rang out from Alpha Male and his shoulders fell. "Very well Miss Granger, I'll look through it." The Alpha Female sighed in relief and turned her head slightly, her eyes caught the light and flashed the dazzling grey of a hunting wolf, but through the eyes of Alpha Male he saw a glorious amber that was wilderness tamed and displayed behind glass, ready to leap out and be wild once again.

* * *

"So you let him take your portfolio?" Asked Draco, awed as he leaned on desk, watching her draw, her head bowed low over the paper. She was entrancing to watch. So still except for her hands. She could almost be praying.

"Forced him more like," she mumbled back, distracted by her drawing. "After seeing what I had . . ." Her brow furrowed and she painstakingly slowly moved he pencil to sketch some miniscule detail. He could not se what she drawing; he never could when she was drawing it because of how close to the paper she inevitably got. "On my walls, he seemed to think he had over stepped the mark by looking." She finally added in a murmur when her hand had moved back to its relatively fast pace.

"He'll be on a war path after he's looked through that. It wouldn't surprise me if he decided to do something about it," the comment was oddly casual for what they were discussing.

When Draco had first seen her portfolio had had not been able to believe what he had seen. How could it have been true? The when it had finally sunk in it had taken multiple threats and pleading from Hermione to stay his hand. Though why she had been so desperate for him not act upon what he had seen he had no idea, but he suspected that it had something to do Hermione's mother. The living ghost was disparately protective of her, though he could not see why and she would not show him. After all, why would any mother leave their child in its time of need?

Though what surprised him more was that Hermione had let her portfolio leave her room. It was unlike her to trust anyone to glance through it, never mind trusting them enough to allow them a thorough inspection of it away from where she could watch them. "I didn't want to see his reaction." She mumbled to his accidentally put forward thought. "I could not bear to see anyone feeling pity for me. It was bad enough seeing your reaction." Draco frowned. He could understand not wanting to see first hand what someone thought of her work. He could not even imagine what it would be like to have sad eyes turned to him after they had read through his poetry. That was why he had refused to be in the room when he let Hermione read through his note book, which was now repaired and safe from further damage.

* * *

His instincts regarding the art work of Miss Granger were very simple. Leave it, don't even glance at it, give it back and never mention it again. However, Severus was used to ignoring his instincts of flight rather than fight. So he cautiously set down the portfolio on the desk in his room and sat in the chair to look through it. But instead he found himself staring at it for the longest time. The wolf, Nightshade, had been quiet since he had taken it, obviously sensing his need to be alone with his thoughts.

He knew that he was not going to like what he saw presented in the plastic muggle portfolio, no matter what the standard of her art work. The misery drifting from it was almost as solid as the desk it sat on. He hesitated, not knowing exactly why. Surely it would be better if he simply got it over and done with. But for the first time in his life Severus Snape felt like procrastinating would be a very good idea, and one he was exceptionally willing to give into.

But he didn't.

With the heavy breath of a condemned man, he slowly opened the portfolio to the first page. And was instantly struck in the chest by an arrow of pale blue light. He watched, helpless as the spell seeped into his body. Why hadn't she warned him about the security she had on her portfolio? He could not even disarm it since he had never heard of a spell like this one. A sensation that was both warm and cold at the same time flooded his nerves. It wasn't painful, nor was it pleasurable, but it was odd. Then a voice, Grangers voice sounded in his mind. _If you are still conscious then feel free to look through my work, if not, well, you won't be waking up for a few months._

He blinked and the sensation left him. But he had the odd feeling of being watched. Taking the time to marvel at just how advanced her spell crafting had become, he wondered at her security system. A spell that could identify whether or not someone had permission to proceed, ingenious. But the fact that it would knock out an unwanted intruder for several months was spectacular, not to mention slightly Dark. He would have to speak to her about it. True it was exceptionally impressive, but he had no idea that she had even come close to considering dabbling in the Dark Art, let alone creating her own Dark spells.

Finally he turned his attention to her drawings, only to find that these were painted manga style comic strips. The first frame showed Hermione sat on her bed reading; she looked to be early adolescent though it was difficult to tell precisely what age when dealing with manga. Her room was shown it precise detail and a little too realistic for the style, she must have only been getting used to drawing comics when she created this. It was in harsh colours and he could easily tell that she had used oil paints; he could also smell the magic stopping it from being smudged. Her clothes were simple, muggle and plain and her hair was tied back out of the way. Her room was bland and contained a ridicules amount of books, with the walls covered in posters of magical creatures, dragons being the most popular.

There were three frames showing this, then the forth was different. The door had been slammed open and in the frame stood a man with the same eyes as Hermione. But he was taller and bulkier, filling most of the door frame and purposefully drawn to look intimidating. His hair was a tame, neat crop of mousy brown, far lighter than Hermione's, but this man was undoubtedly her father.

The fifth frame had Hermione, her book falling away to the floor, curling up into a terrified but resigned ball.

The sixth, her father approaching her with a malicious glint in his eyes.

The seventh, a close up of Hermione's face, her eyes squeezed shut with a tear running down her cheek, a thought bubble in the frames corner proclaiming "at least he isn't doing this to my mom".

The next frames were awful. Hermione being knocked around and refusing to fight back, all the while emphasising that she was simply glad it was not her mother suffering. But what kind of mother would let their child go through this without raising a hand to stop it? A slow anger began to build within him and a soft growl rumbled through his chest. It took several more frames to realise that it was him who was growling and not Nightshade, but faced with the atrocity upon the pages before him, he could not find it in him to care.

Then the comic strip, a terrible parody of a name for it, became darker. She had somehow woven red mist into the pictures. But he did not stop to marvel at her work. Rather his blood ran cold at what it showed.

Her father, her own flesh and blood, had her pinned to the bed. There was a close up of her eye, squeezed shut in disgust and terror. Then there was a picture that turned his stomach. The man, for Severus saw that he did not deserve to labelled "father", was running his hand up Hermione's leg.

Then there was a frame of Hermione's closed bedroom door from the outside. Apparently she was too disgusted to draw what had transpired within, but he could guess. Across the next few frames glowing silver words slowly appeared on the dark wood door. "When a child's innocence is stolen by her father, who will protect her then?"

* * *

He ran his long, elegant fingers over the bars to their cage. His sharp blood red eyes could not penetrate the darkness within, but he could hear them. His creatures, his children. The first generation was deadly, but they were nothing compared to the second.

A shrill screech, enough to make even the bravest turn and run in fear slashed through the rustling of the cage, bringing a slight smile to the serpentine lips of the Dark Lord. One of his followers whimpered behind him and the door to the cage creaked in protest as it was opened. But they were well trained, they stayed inside until they were ordered to leave.

Another but very different cry came to his attention as a muggle woman, dressed in not very much was dragged to his side. She had obviously been snatched when on a night out with friends, either that or she was a prostitute, but he doubted it. She would have a hard time giving her body away, never mind selling it. Her pleas of mercy went unheard. They were an inconsequential but quite pleasant sound.

With an uncaring hand gesture from the reptilian human she was dragged to the open door of his pets' lair and cast in carelessly. The door clanged shut ruthlessly behind her.

Almost instantaneously she was swallowed by the darkness. Screams cut through the rustling like daggers. There were crashes and loud banging sounds for what must have been an hour to the woman, but it was four seconds to the master of the hidden monsters.

Finally the screaming stopped. The men around him cried out in shock and jumped back as the bones of the woman smashed against the bars, picked clean by the very darkness. At least they had a healthy appetite, they would need it eventually.

* * *

Breakfast was tense to say the least. The ease of the last week had disappeared as suddenly as Snapes good mood. Now the black shroud had covered him once again and with it Hermione's mood had darkened. Well, perhaps not darkened. Delved into the familiar territory of dread perhaps, the dread that came with someone knowing what had happened yet waiting for the right moment to say something to her. Or would he simply leave the house for a while and return to inform her that she no longer had a father? It was not beyond him. It was certainly something she could see him being capable of.

She felt a query in her mind as she pushed away her plate. She just could not eat. Her nerves were frayed from the waiting. She just knew a confrontation was coming, and it was coming soon.

But it did not get the chance to come.

The kitchen door was flung open and Tonks appeared in the frame, with her heart shaped face and her bubblegum pink hair that Hermione was sure glowed in the dark. "Death Eaters have attacked your house Hermione." Her eyes darted to Snape who choked on his coffee. "They've killed your father and we can't find your mother."

Everything after that was a blank. She had no memory of how she felt, of getting dressed, of travelling to her house. It seemed like one completely vacant passage of time. One minute she was sat at the table in the kitchen the next she was standing in the kitchen of her own home, looking down to the mangled corpse of her father.

It didn't seem real. But it did not feel unreal either. She did not really feel anything. Her emotions seemed to have disappeared, leaving a vacuum at her heart. She could not even feel Draco. Was it really over? Did she really have nothing to worry about from the man at her feet ever again? As much as she tried to convince herself that this was not a dream, she simply could not accept that this was a reality.

He seemed more intimidating when he was alive and could tower over her. Now he did not even look like he had been tall enough to. Was this really the man who had terrorised her as long as she could remember and terrorised her mother for longer? She could not see what she had been afraid of now. Why had she never stood up to him? She thought on this for some time but the only thing she could think of was that she had been trained like a dog not to turn on him. Well, now he was gone she would no longer be anyone's pet dog. She would be as wild and as free as the wolf.

"I'm sorry this has happened." Someone muttered to her. She could not even tell it had been a man or a woman, she was so lost to the moment, to the knowledge that her life would never be held in the hands of anyone but her ever again, that nothing around her seemed solid.

"I'm not," Hermione replied dully. "It's only what I should have done years ago."

* * *

Severus stood, staring at the door which obviously belonged to Hermione's bedroom. The rest of the house had been so normal, so perfect, that it had almost made him sick. But this was different. It was the only door in the whole house that refused to be opened and the strong scent of magic clung to it. He could also smell a human, a scared human, hiding in the room beyond the door and from the similarity to Hermione that the scent held, he was willing to bet that it was the girls' mother. She had obviously known about the powerful wards on the door, but how has she gotten past them?

He frowned. Hermione must have set them up so that those who shared her blood could pass them, but those who did not could not proceed without some form of code, password or permission. Remembering the wards she had on her portfolio, he shied away from touching the door. If the wards she had here were the same or similar it would be best to wait for Hermione to stop staring at her fathers corpse and come and open the door.

But he knew she would be too late. Her mother would have killed herself by the time the girl got there. He could smell the gun, or rather the fluid used to clean it. So, on a leap of faith he cast his mind back to the end of the first comic strip in Hermione's portfolio.

"When a child's innocence is stolen by her father, who will protect her then?" As he spoke the words appeared on the door, glowing with a silver light just as they had been drawn. Then there was a click. The door slowly opened as the shimmering words faded.

Then he saw the pathetic sight that was Hermione's mother. She was huddled in the corner, shaking with fear, her green eyes wide with terror and staring at him. Merlin she looked like Hermione, only older and more fragile. But that did not worry him nearly as much as the fact that she had the barrel of the small hand gun in her mouth.

_Alpha, what is it doing?_ He ignored the wolf. Now he could see why Hermione was always so worried about this woman in her drawings. She had been broken, very badly broken.

"Mrs Granger," he said softly as he scented Hermione's approach, he guessed that her wards had alerted her to being bypassed. "Please take the gun out of your mouth." With a child like shake of the head she cocked the gun, readying it for firing.

Hermione calmly and coolly walked past him, as though this was as normal as a potions lesson. Her posture was proud and aloof, but her heart was beating wildly. The girl kneeled down in front of the woman, and suddenly she was no longer a girl to him. She smiled softly and spoke gently, as a mother would to a distraught child. "Sweetie, the gun will work just as well here," she tapped her temple, "as it will here," she tapped her lips. Her mother nodded. Hermione smiled patiently, leaving Severus in awe of her mannerisms. She looked so calm, but he could easily tell that the opposite was true. "So why don't you take that out of your mouth and put it against your head so we can talk together? Hm?"

After a heart stopping few seconds the woman scrambled the gun from her mouth and rested it against her temple. Hermione smiled her praise to her mother, once again reversing their roles. "Okay now honey, no one is going to hurt you. Not anymore. He's dead. You don't have to have to worry about him anymore," she cooed. The green eyed woman glanced to Severus fearfully, as if accusing him of some crime. "And he won't hurt you either. He's a teacher and he's here to help."

"Is-is Ph-Philip really d-dead?" Gods she sounded like a five year old. Hermione nodded sweetly at the woman.

"Yes he is, he can't get you anymore, now are you going to give me the gun sweetheart?"

Hermione mother hesitated, and for a terrible moment Severus thought that she would pull the trigger. But thankfully she slowly took the barrel away from her temple and handed the gun to her daughter. Who promptly transfigured it into a colourful handkerchief with a slight flick of her wrist and tossed it aside. How many more tricks did the infuriating young woman have up her sleeve? That was advanced magic that he doubted even he could perform! Yet she seemed to think it was an ordinary feat!

She did not even stop for a second before taking a seat on the floor beside her mother. The older woman quickly leaned into her daughters embrace, burying her face in the security of the young woman's neck. "I'm sorry." She moaned from her daughters enveloping hold. "I'm sorry I couldn't have helped you, I should have looked after you."

"Hush sweetheart. It's okay, it wasn't your fault." She kissed the top of her mothers head to comfort her. "You could not have helped me, I'm just glad I could help you."

_This is pack._ Murmured Nightshade. _I know now why she became wolf._

_Why?_ Asked Severus as he watched the disturbing scene before him. The poor woman's mother was obviously insane, probably because of the now dead tyrant below.

_To survive._ Nightshade answered, proud but at the same time saddened by the revelation. _A wolf can survive through anything if they have the will to. It was her life that forced her to be wolf yet not wolf. It was her father that forced her to become wild yet tame. She did not choose it, it chose her_

He could not help but agree. It was the simple hardship of her life that had brought about her fiery nature, her refusal to be dominated. For the first time since the wolf had said it, Severus agreed with Nightshade. She truly was an Alpha Female. But he could not help but wonder why she had chosen to surround herself with male friends, perhaps she needed them to remind her that her monster of a father was the exception and not the rule.

With a heavy sigh he turned away from the pair. "I'll inform everyone that your mother is alive and unharmed."

"Even though she's broken?" She asked distractedly as she stoked the child like woman's hair.

"Even though she's broken." He murmured back before walking out of the door.

* * *


	4. Insubordinate, Not Subordinate

Chapter Four: Insubordinate, Not Subordinate

Hermione held on to her mother tightly and the child like woman returned her embrace with the same crushing affection as her daughter. Medi witches and wizards bustled about the ward as they said their goodbyes. "You'll be okay here sweetie," she hummed softly. "These people will take care of you, help you to get well again."

"They're gonna fix my broken head?" Asked the woman innocently.

Hermione pulled away slightly and nodded, smiling at her mother., even though all she wanted to do was cry. She felt someone squeeze her shoulder, but knew it was a phantom touch from Draco when she didn't feel the fabric of her shirt move. With another motherly smile the young woman pushed her mothers' hair behind her ear.

"I'll write to you every week and I'll come and see you as soon as I can, but the lady in charge of the ward says that you should get better faster if I stay away for a little while." Reluctantly Hermione pulled away from her mother completely and allowed her to be steered into her ward. After instantly deciding that she didn't like the nurse leading her because she tried to hold her hand.

"I'm not a little girl." Proclaimed that older woman as the nurse looked at her in shock, then followed her into the ward.

She smiled and chuckled slightly at the display. Yes, her mother would most likely confuse them immensely with her child like antics and her overly intelligent views. With a sad sigh she turned to talk to the raven haired mediwitch, dressed in lime green robes, who would be the one most involved in caring for her mother. "You said that there were a few requests you had concerning your mother?" She asked politely.

"Erm, yes, there is. And one or two of them might seem a little odd considering her state of mind." The mediwitch nodded with a pleasant smile, letting the young woman know she could continue. "Okay, well, she loves reading any of Shakespeare's works and she's also quite fond of keeping up to date with muggle medical papers, it's a hobby of hers. Oh, and Greek mythology is another favourite for her, as well muggle crime novels. Would you be able to get her the relevant material, or I should I send it?" Hermione had never seen someone's eyebrows rise so much in her life. She was surprised that they were still on the woman's head.

"We could get them," she replied somewhat hesitantly. "But are you sure she'll be able to cope with such advanced reading? I mean, there are other, far simpler things that she could entertain herself with."

"I'm sure she'll cope with it. She acts like and has the mentality of a child, but she still has the intellect of the woman she used to be. She loves advanced reading. And there's a few more things, but these are for me, not my mother." Oddly enough this woman was starting to grate on her. Yes her mother is insane, but she isn't stupid!

"And what would that be?" And from the tone of her voice, Hermione guessed that she was having a similar affect on the woman.

"If it's possible could you send me the complete reports on her condition and the findings of any check ups and tests she might have? Just so I can see how much progress you make with my mother in my absence." Hermione could easily tell that the raven haired woman was fighting against a scowl.

"It's possible, but are you sure that you'll be able to interpret the results correctly?" Strangely enough, the living ghost didn't bother to stop her lip from curling in disgust.

"Yes I'm sure," she snapped irritably. "I've done it plenty of times before and it isn't that difficult." The other woman huffed at her before answering.

"Very well. Where should we send them to?" The mediwitch's jaw was firmly set and she could easily tell that the stuck up cow would be vehemently slagging her off to everyone during her coffee break.

"The Burrow."

* * *

Severus watched from the shadows of the first landing as Hermione ran into Dracos waiting arms below him. He felt an odd twinge of something that he stubbornly labelled fatherly concern, despite the fact he knew for certain that he harboured no fatherly feelings for the young women who was now weeping in the blonds embrace. This was his place, in the shadows as life carried on around him. He had no place in the world of light and for the first time he realised that he never had.

He frowned as he turned away, clearly hearing Hermione sob the words "it feels like I've abandoned her all over again" as he began to analyse his personality. He felt another tug at his heart when he heard the words and he got the insane impulse to go and try to comfort her. Forcing the very thought of it away he returned to his task, he had no right to comfort her. That task belonged to her friends; he was her teacher, though throughout their experiments concerning her gift he had begun to think of her as more of a colleague as she continuously made valid points and intelligent suggestions.

Before he could even begin his analysis, Nightshade provided him with the answer he already knew he would have come to. _Vampire._ It was a simple word and it made sense. He acted like one most of the time, skulking in shadows, following his instincts rather than his intelligence and never, ever letting anything stand in the way of what he had to do. Not to mention if he saw something he wanted, he would do everything in his power to get it. _You always have been in your mind. Now be a Vampire and go to Alpha Female._

_And say what exactly? _He snapped, harsher than he meant to as he slammed open the door to his room, suddenly and irrationally angry. _Draco can comfort her far more efficiently than I ever could!_ The wolf was stunned into a shocked silence. Then Severus felt realisation dawn upon Nightshade, though what he had realised was a mystery, and he was far too foul a mood to ask.

At the last second he turned around, left his room and slammed the door shut. He had a schedule to keep to today and Merlin be damned if he was going to let the return of his temper and a distraught young woman get in his way. He had a blood analysis to do and that was likely to take all day, if not longer. The wolf had given him a few new ideas from its proclamation that he was a Vampire in mind if not body.

That was when he passed a mirror and took note of it for the first time in over a year. And what he saw shocked him to a stand still. Just a passing glance. That was all he had mean to give the damned thing. But now he was slowly approaching it as though it could jump out of its ill treated guilt gold frame and attack him. He could not be seeing this. . . Could he?

His reflection was slightly faded, just enough to be classed as translucent. He could just a say make out the painting on the wall directly behind him. He could see the moving figure it held, but his own image was just solid enough to block out the details. Hesitantly he lifted his upper lip, not afraid of what he might see, but at the same time he was terrified of what he would see. The change was minuscule. No one would spot it unless they were specifically looking for it. He could not even feel the difference, but it was defiantly there. His canines were more pointed than they had once been; they were sharper than their previous form as well. They were also more prominent than they were meant to be. So his heightened senses had not been because he had been bitten by a werewolf. They had been caused by the vampire blood in him surfacing.

It was around that point that the brain of Severus Snape did something it had never done before.

It shut down.

The only thing that he seemed to be able to think were the words "oh" and "bollocks" in that order, over and over again, at high speed. For at least ten minutes he stood there in a complete state of shock, and when his brain finally rebooted itself he made a mad dash for his make shift potions lab, determined to discover what else in him was no longer human.

* * *

"Hermione, you are _insane_." He couldn't believe that she was actually considering this. It was madness! It was suicidal! It was the one thing his logical imagination had picked out as impossible! Damn, the girl was full of surprises. Even for him.

"Do you honestly think that I haven't noticed my obvious mental instability? I thought I should have committed myself to Saint Mungo's as soon as the notion entered my mind." And now she was irritable, wonderful. She was dreadful to deal with when she was in a bad mood. Draco sighed as she glared at him from her curled up position on the couch across from him and realised that she had been looking for reassurance.

Then he frowned as he noticed something else. Something he did not want to notice.

Snape had been right. She was quite beautiful. True her hair was unruly, her breasts were modest and she was quite tall for a woman, not a feature he found appealing in the slightest. But none of that mattered with her. There was an odd sort of power in her build and an unusual beauty in her face. Her face which strangely reminded him of an Elfish warrior woman he had encountered in his childhood. Entrancing, but in a way that not many human women were. A way that showed intelligence, grace and a fierce spirit.

_Could you please stop that. _He felt her discomfort ripple through him at his attention and he felt suddenly ashamed of himself. He had promised her that he would never think of her as anything other than a sister. _You needn't worry,_ Hermione reassured him, though he could how wary she was slowly becoming. _I don't mind. Just please don't try to change our friendship into anything more than that._

_You are hopeless at lying. You always have been. But I won't make any advances. I'm not even attracted to you. I just find you attractive._

_There's a difference? _She scoffed.

_Of course there is._ _You are attractive, but I view you as a sister. _He hoped.

"Hmm," was the only reply she gave him.

Hermione pulled her knees close to her chest and held them as though they were a life line. Awkwardly he sat beside her and lay his arm around her shoulders. "You'll do it Hermione. I know you will. If he approves anyone it would definitely be you." Draco hoped that she could feel the sincerity in his words. "You're the most intelligent witch since Rowena Ravenclaw." She leaned into him, searching for reassurance. He could tell that she wasn't sure now would be the right time to ask him.

"You know as well as I do that he doesn't just look for intelligence."

"Do you have any idea how often I've had to put up with him singing your praises since fourth year? Far too often. It got ridiculously irritating after about a year." He was rewarded by a slight laugh. Then all of his effort was ruined by a very simple thing.

The door opened.

Harry Potter, a raven haired scrawny nuisance and Ronald Weasly, a ginger lanky streak of piss (his own description of the idiot), practically tumbled through the door. "Hermione, we are so sorry-" Potter began, but the living ghost cut him off.

"What part of your essay are you stuck on?" She snapped irritably, and Draco found himself quietly agreeing with the sentiment behind her words.

"What?" Weasly's wit was on top form as always. The blond rolled his eyes, but did not speak as he could feel that Hermione wanted to handle this herself. At least Potter had the decency to look partially ashamed and offended.

"It took what happened with, well, your parents to make us see how important you are to us." Supplied the boy who actually had some small semblance of a functioning brain. "We don't care that you can do what you can. It doesn't matter. You're still the girl we know and you're still like a sister to us. If anything happened to you we would never forgive ourselves." Right! That was it!

"Do you honestly think she can't take care of herself Potter?" He snapped.

"You obviously don't think so," countered Weasly.

"You right. I don't think so. I know so! It wasn't hard to figure out when she managed to not only get into the Malfoy Manor, but get out with the baggage of an injured friend without getting harmed in the slightest." Oh how he loathed it when people thought that Hermione was helpless and defenceless just because she was a girl. In truth not many men could beat her down. That shut the ginger knob jockey up and his skin was rapidly changing colour to match his hair. All three started to say something.

"Quiet! All of you!"

Suddenly Hermione was the centre of attention again. And she certainly was not impressed. The anger Draco could feel come from her washed over him in waves as she turned her glare to each of them in turn, ready with her scathing comments. Potter, The Boy Who Lived to Annoy Him was the first unlucky soul. "The only brother I have is sat with his arm around me now, so don't you dare think you have the right to come and tell me how sorry you are because I'm like your sister." Next was Weasly as Potter tried to control the cringe that the venom in Hermione's voice had caused. "Ron, if I hear you suggesting, even subtly, which would be an extreme rarity for you, that Draco has low opinions of me you'll be astonished by how quickly you find yourself unconscious. And you!" Oh crap, was the only thought Draco had as she turned her glare to him, and it was a glare that was worthy of Snape. "Will you mind your own bloody business for once in your life!"

And with that she stood up, dusted herself off and took a deep breath. "Now I'm off to get flayed alive by the mere power of harsh words, and if you three haven't reached some sort of civility by the time I get back I assure you that you will all find yourselves unable to have sex for the next six months!" Draco watched in utter shock as she confidently stalked out of the room like a hunter in search of prey.

"Must be that time of the month," murmured Weasly. Slowly sniggering started. Then it began to grow. Then suddenly it was full blown laughter, perforated only by comments to add to the humour. All of which targeted Hermione as their victim.

* * *

As she walked to Snapes makeshift lab she felt it. She had no idea why or how it had happened, but Draco was finding something absolutely hilarious. This was bizarre to say the least considering the company he had at the moment. She only hoped that his amusement was not the result of causing bodily harm to Harry and Ron.

Despite what she had said she still felt attached to the pair of idiots. No matter how much their abandonment had hurt her, a tiny part of her mind and heart refused to stop counting them as her friends. It had been a secret hope of hers, buried so deep within her that she had even hidden it from Draco, that they would come back and beg for her forgiveness. But Draco was her most important friend and she would not have them back if they could not learn to get along with the blond. She could learn to live without Harry and Ron, but without Draco there would be a gaping hole in her heart that she knew nothing would be able to fill.

She loved him, but she was not in love with him, if that even made sense. She loved him so much that she doubted she would be able to live if he weren't there with his understanding embraces, disgustingly dirty jokes and the simple ability to make her smile, reassure her and cheer her up. No matter what had happened she knew that Draco would be there with his poetry and his smirk to make things better. His quick but soft edged wit was a comfort, well, it was soft edged when directed at her, and his sarcasm assured her that all was right with the world. So when he sincerely played the brother that she knew in her heart he was, it was odd. But odd in a good way.

Suddenly Hermione found herself outside of the dismally stocked lab without really remembering the journey. Then the nerves started their assault of her courage and the doubt began to gnaw at her confidence. What if he just laughed at her? What if he told her that she was deluded and aiming well above her station? And if she failed his test then what? She didn't think she could stand the humiliation of being branded substandard and simply getting shoved into the hands of a second rate Potions Master. Snape was the best after all.

She had managed to read all of the books he had written that she could get her hands on and they had been nothing short of brilliance. Books that gave a detailed description of the countries most prestigious Potions Masters could not go three pages without singing his praises or saying that a certain Master lacked the quality or depth of knowledge that he held. She had even manage to get hold of the newest edition of "A World of Potion Masters: the Class Above the Rest Including a Simple Compatibility Test to Find Your Ideal Master" (apparently the author hadn't heard that the title of a book should easily fit on its spine). He was in the top three in the world. Though really it was the top two since the pair he shared joint first with always worked as pair. No doubt he had something derogatory to say about them. Not surprisingly upon taking the test the book had pronounced that she would be best suited to a completely different Master, but she refused to settle for seventh best. Especially since the Master in question looked as though he was a porn star and was well known for being a womanising pig.

She took a deep breath, then another, then another, then another dozen and then finally rapped smartly on the door. She was hoping for a well pronounced and powerful "come in". However she received a distracted grunt through the door and took that as her invitation. Frowning she opened the door, already sensing that one of the most important moments of her life was going to be exceptionally memorable for all the wrong reasons. He was sat in a chair with a tourniquet tied tightly around his left arm, drawing blood using an old fashioned glass syringe with a needle that looked like brass. The door creaked closed of its own accord as she stood and stared at his arm, not entirely sure what he was doing or how she was meant to react to walking in on something like that.

Once the syringe was filled he slowly drew the long needle from his flesh. Hermione watched, entranced by the action, the line of raised skin fell back into place when the metal was removed from beneath. Finally the tip of the needle was free and the dark professor held the glass syringe up to the light to examine the thick fluid within. It was the darkest, most intense blood she had even seen, with one exception. The blood of a vampire she had saved from a vampire hunter in the Christmas holiday of her third year, Arra. She owned a shop in Knockturn Alley and stocked better quality potions ingredients than the apothecary.

Somewhat awkwardly she cleared her throat. "Yes Miss Granger?" asked Snape, not taking his eyes from the blood he had drawn. Hermione noticed that the needle must have had some sort of spell on it to heal the tiny wound it left as his arm was not bleeding in the slightest.

"I erm, well," she could easily tell his attention was else were. As she spoke, or stuttered in this case, he removed the glass tube inside the syringe carefully and lay it down on a work top then set about replacing it with a new one. "I ha-"

"Would you mind giving a blood sample? I need something to compare this to." He interrupted casually, as he often did in the lab. When he worked he often forgot that manners still existed, everything was about getting the best result possible and if he had to interrupt her to do that, then so be it.

"What? Oh!" This really was not going as planned. "Erm. Okay, but I'm too keen on needles so I'll probably look away."

"Not a problem," he still hadn't looked at her yet and he stood now as he intently changed the needle. What had she gotten herself into? "Take a seat," he instructed softly, gesturing to the chair he had just been sat in.

With a heavy sigh Hermione complied. Snape passed her the dreaded needle baring syringe and then untied the tourniquet from his arm. "I assure you that it won't hurt," he mumbled as he securely and tightly bound the tourniquet half way around her upper arm. Then taking back the syringe he politely asked, "Are you alright? You seemed quite upset when you returned."

"I'm fine," she answered, looking away and blushing. Then she felt a slight prick and an odd pinching sensation as he took advantage of her shy nature by slowly pushing the needle into her flesh. She squirmed uncomfortably. She had always hated the feeling of something under her flesh. Getting blood taken had been the first time she ghosted, only to realise that it actually felt far worse. Hermione had been seven at the time and she had terrified both herself and the nurse who had been taking her blood.

Her leg started to twitch as he nerve redoubled. She had to say something soon or she would chicken out of asking him. So with yet another deep breath, Hermione got ready to voice her request. "Professor?"

"Mmm," he answered, obviously not paying much attention and concentrating on drawing her blood.

"I formally request to apprentice under you in the field of potions."

His head snapped up, eyes wide. His hands jerked awkwardly. There was a small, peeling metallic snap. "OW!"

"Sorry!" Hermione hand shot to her arm as Snape carelessly discarded the syringe. Grimacing, she took her hand away and looked to the damage done. Snape gave an apologetic cough at the sight.

The needle as still in her flesh with only a millimetre or two escaping being submerged beneath her skin. A small but steady trickle of bright crimson blood slowly poured from the splintered brass. "Here, let me." Gently, more gently than Hermione would have thought possible, Snape pressed his thumb over the opening of the needle and took a soft hold of the small shard and slowly began to withdraw it from her vein. The pinching feeling returned from the movement of the needle and she fought against a flinch. "I apologise again. But I certainly wasn't expecting such a request from you, even though I've waiting for it since you were in second year." Finally the needle was free of her body and she flexed her hand as the professor magically discarded the broken needle and pressed his thumb against the tiny wound.

"Why second year?" Oh no, she had an awful felling about what he was about to say.

"Pollyjuice potion." Simple enough words. Words that could get her expelled. He smiled at her, almost reassuringly. "Do you honestly think that a Potions Master wouldn't notice fairly dangerous ingredients going missing, or that a rather odd smell that was distinctive to potions of that ilk was drifting from a girl's bathroom?" She blushed and looked away again. "I have to admit that I was impressed by your brewing. I must have checked on your progress everyday and it was _book_ perfect." He put an odd stress on the word book as he spoke, and it was obviously of some significance. "You needn't worry. I informed no one."

She could not stop the sigh of relief that rushed from her. "So, do you accept?" He didn't answer straight away. Instead he took his thumb from her arm and checked to see if the bleeding had stopped. It had and he looked back to her eyes. There was a searching gleam to his inky blue black depths that was almost unnerving, but at the same time reassuring and almost entrancing.

"Are you saying that you honestly expected any different?" She could feel her face heating and she looked away yet again. She was confident in herself. That was easy to see. But she always doubted what other saw in her abilities. "Well, after you've passed the test I have to set you your self doubt will be the first thing to go." He stood up and walked to a work bench where there was an ink pot, quill and parchment.

After rooting through the pile of parchment for a ridicules length of time he finally found a clean roll and began to scribble something down. "You have two weeks," then after a slight pause had said, sounding somewhat shamed, "actually you have only eleven days because of my . . . condition, in which to gather these ingredients. Once you have the phoenix feathers come to me within two days or they will prove to be useless. When you have the ingredients simply tell me and you can use this lab to brew the potion to which I will provide the instructions."

"Okay," she mumbled distractedly as he passed her the list.

"I'll provide anything else you need for the potion, including the cauldron since you need it to be crafted of reinforced aluminium."

A slow smile made its home on Hermione's lips. Oh this was too easy. All of these ingredients were virtually impossible to get hold of . . . At least they were the legal way. Fortunately for the living ghost one of her friends was beyond the reaches of the law and owned quite a quaint and rather, well, unsavoury shop. "It looks like I'll have to pay a visit to Arra in her wonderful little shop in Knockturn Ally." She barely even realised she had spoken, but Snape certainly noticed.

"Where!" He snapped, was it just her imagination or did he sound worried?

"Knockturn Alley, she's a vampire so she couldn't really rent a place in Diagon Ally. There's too much light." She could see he was quite close to loosing his temper, what she could not se was why. His jaw was clenched and his fists were trying not to do the same.

_Alpha worries for you. Placate him._ The wolf again? How did it keep doing that? _You are more sensitive than most, and Alpha seems to feel some kind of link to you. Now hurry before he snaps._ Well, she certainly did not need telling twice. She had seen his temper first hand.

"If it will ease your mind why don't you come with me? Though you really don't need to. I've been enough times before to know how not to attract the wrong kind of attention to myself." Okay, Dracos ridiculously good mood was refusing to let her teacher charming skills to kick in, though in all honesty they had never worked on him anyway. His only response was to raise an eyebrow. Still she could not react properly to the danger she faced with Draco so high on Merlin only knows what. _Nightshade, care to lend a hand? Or paw I suppose. He's never really gone for my charm._ She could practically feel the wolfs amusement and fondness for her. Then he was gone from her heart. Gone back to his host.

"I can tell when you're talking with him, you know." Snape stated flatly, then paused to listen to the wolf as Hermione blushed and looked away yet again. He stood silent for a few moments. Then his eyes widened in shock and he very nearly began to blush himself. Finally his eyes narrowed, though she could tell he would far rather be glaring at the wolf than at her. "Very well Miss Granger. I'll accompany you, but" oh crap, what did he want. "But only if you can somehow acquire a sample of fresh vampires blood from this Arra."

"No problem." The beginnings of a smug smirk crashed horribly and he gawked at her in amazement.

"What do you mean no problem?" He spurted out rather shocked.

"Blood for blood. How do you think I'll be paying for the more pricy things on this list?" And with that she made her hasty retreat, leaving the dumb struck potions professor to his solitude, a wolf literally howling with laughter in her mind. It seemed that Nightshade had made a weak but usable link between them.

* * *

_Oh shut up,_ snapped Alpha. But to no avail. The wolf simply could not stop laughing. It had been hilarious how the Alpha had just been connived into being the subordinate wolf by only who was under half his age. But now he could see why the, and he now used this word loosely, dominant wolf had said that the Alpha Female was closer to being insubordinate than being a subordinate.

_She has you wrapped around the smallest claw of her front paw._ Nightshade could feel his bone home hum with his laughter and he had to pause because of it. _And her claws are almost none existent. Not only that, but you're jealous of the pale pup she's pack bound to._

_I most certainly am not!_

_You most certainly are! And it is just so funny!_ Nightshade felt and heard a growl rumble from the Alpha Male and quickly redoubled his efforts to get his laughter under control. But apparently that would not be working today.


	5. Arra's Quaint Little Shop

Chapter Five: Arra's Quaint Little Shop

Hermione could still feel him laughing as she made her way back to what she thought would be a war zone. She had no idea what she would encounter when she opened the door, but the closer she got the louder the laughter became. Shaking her head and hoping that Draco had not brutally mauled Harry and Ron, she reached out for the door. With a deep breath she turned the old brass handle and quickly pushed, just like ripping off a plaster.

What she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. The laughter stopped for a second or so as all three boys, tears rolling down their faces and clutching their sides, guiltily looked to her . . . then promptly burst out into hysterical laughter, supporting each other. Harry fell over from laughing so hard and Draco tried to lend a hand in getting him up, only to fall over himself.

In a combination of shock, disbelief and a horror induced stupor; she pulled the door shut and slowly backed away from it as though she was afraid it might bite. That, without a doubt, was at least on the same level as Snapes good mood for complete wrongness. It probably even beat it. She had no idea how long she stood and stared at the door, but Remus eventually snapped her out of her dazed state with an unsure hand on her forearm, which she now noticed was still held out towards the door.

Her head span towards him and she saw the werewolf's quizzically raised eyebrow. Soon after he shook his head and reached towards the door handle himself. Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "Don't! You really don't want to see what's in there." She warned cryptically. Which of course, being a wolf and a Gryffindor, only piqued his interest. So the former professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts half opened the door, glanced in, then quickly closed it with a sharp snap and the same look on his face as Hermione.

"I think I've just been scarred for life," he mumbled, half jokingly.

After a minute or so of staring at the door, he finally snapped back to his senses and turned to Hermione. "I was wondering, I know about your little talent and I thought that maybe I could help you get a better hold over it." Hermione raised her eyebrow. How could he help her to control her gift?

"How?" She asked warily.

"Well, I found that it helped me to control myself and my magic far better once I'd learn to control my body. And to do that I learnt something that I thought was very fun." A large wolfish grin crossed his face as he paused. "Would you like to learn how to sword fight?" Hermione's eyes lit up at that proposition. A huge smile spread across her face.

"I'm a fantasy freak! A complete Lord of the Rings nerd! Of course I want to learn to sword fight!"

* * *

It had been little over an hour since he had accidentally injured Granger when she made her rather unexpected but still expected request. And now a very uneasy Severus Snape was scouring the house for her. He didn't like the idea of going to Knockturn Ally, even less so when it involved visiting a vampire and his possible new apprentice giving a blood sample. Where the hell was she? He had checked her room, the kitchen, as well as her and Dracos usual haunts, only finding Draco, Potter and Weasly playing a game of chess (Weasly against Draco and Potter and they were still loosing). That scene had been quite disturbing but it didn't get him any closer to Hermione and that sodding clanging of metal on metal was really annoying him! It had persisted for almost as long as the girl had left his sight!

_Use your nose to find her,_ Nightshade suggested. It wasn't a bad idea. It was just one he wasn't used to. He had no idea what she smelt like so how could it work? He had not bothered to commit scents to memory, but perhaps he should start. Then he remembered that he had never actually smelt Hermione's true scent. It was always masked by the lavender every thing she used when she bathed.

_Thank you for that Nightshade, I keep forgetting about my newly heightened senses._

_You've had them for half a month, they're hardly new. Then again you have been ignoring them._

After rolling his eyes at the ever bolder wolf within, he set about trying to discreetly discern the scent of lavender in air. He could smell it, the faintest trace from where he stood, just out side the kitchen. But he knew that it was coming from the bathroom. It was too pure a scent of lavender to be what Hermione was drenched in. Okay, plan number two. Lavender with a hint of Draco's ridiculously expensive aftershave that to him just smelt odd. Him and Granger were always all over each other, it was like they were joined at the hip. It was at that thought that Nightshade gave a cough that sounded quite like the word jealous. After rolling his eyes again he found a completely different smell to what he was looking for, with one exception. It was laced with lavender. It was an oddly ethereal scent, but somehow earthy at the same time, and distinctly female. _Alpha female._ But this was not the wolf's thought, it was his own. That was her scent said to him. It was defiantly Hermione's as there was mixture of other scents bound to it that could only belong to her. The unmistakeable scent of paper, oil paint and wood shavings from her pencils. She could probably bathe for a year and still have those scents cling to her.

Shaking his head to dislodge that train of thought, he set of following the scent. Unsurprisingly it led him first to the room he had seen the three boys in, then to his lab and then back again. Trying not to growl again as had somehow managed to become his custom when he got overly annoyed these day, he set off to follow the far fainter scent trail. It was easier than he thought it would be. Though he did notice that he was getting closer to the sound of clanging metal. But now he could hear the sounds that it tried to drown out. The scuffling of shoes on wood. The irate grunts of a female. The amused chuckling of a male and he could scent another wolf. A subordinate but still worthy.

Finally he found himself in front of the door that led to the largest and barest room in the house, what people considered to be the attic, even though it wasn't really, this place didn't have one. He opened the door only to see Hermione overbalance with a sword in her hand as she went for Remus, who leant back slightly, tripped her in such a way the her arms flailed and her sword fell from her grasp. Then promptly kicked backside as she stumbled, causing her to fall flat on her face at the Potion Masters feet. And she was glowing. Sort of. She was closer to being a pale bluish translucent. But still, it was very odd. And this was coming from someone who had just seen Draco being friendly with Potter and Weasly.

He raised an eyebrow as she looked up to him, blushing at her . . . position. She smiled slightly and gave a small nervous laugh as he rolled his eyes. "Remus, when you've finished literally wiping the floor with her, will you let me know so that we can set off for London." It wasn't a request, though it was slightly more polite than what the other wolf was used to.

"We're finished now, though you might want to wait for her stop doing whatever it is she's doing before you go." She scowled, obviously not impressed with the remark. . . And then became so translucent it was difficult to see her, but he could see through her.

"How are you doing that?" Asked the Potions Master with interest, his researchers' instinct coming into play.

"I don't know, it's new." She snapped before looking to herself. "But it's triggered by negative emotions. And it's part of my healing thing, I can feel it coming from the same place, only it's not quite as unwelcome." Her form slowly began to solidify as she analysed the situation, forgetting her irritation. The two wolves looked to each other with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, and I'll have to get changed before we set off," Hermione stated in a matter of fact tone. "I do have a rather strict part to play where we're going."

"And that part is?" He asked suspiciously. Though now he thought about it he should not be surprised. She would stand out like, well, like an almost pure muggleborn in Knockturn Alley. They almost always are unbelievably easy to spot.

"You'll see. But just make sure you don't stare for too long." And with that she jumped to her feet, smiling and no longer blue or transparent. Severus raised his eyebrow as she walked straight towards him. What on Earth- Straight through him. He shuddered at the disgustingly liquid, almost slimy feeling that washed through him as she walked through him. Suddenly he was glad he had no memory of the last time she entered him in such a way. He was even glad that she had not Ghosted out of his grasp just over two weeks ago.

_That's awful!_ Exclaimed the wolf as it shuddered within his rib cage. _I nearly ended up being taken with her._ He would have to make sure that she didn't Ghost through him again, just in case Nightshade was not exaggerating.

* * *

_Can I come?_ Asked Draco as lyric buzzed around his head. She hated it when he was writing and talking to her at the same time. He always _Storm clouds swim through the dawn sky_ did that.

_You'll have to ask Snape,_ she replied as she slid on the corset.

_Summer days all fade away,_ damn that was irritating. _Do you think he'll let me?_

_I can't think why he wouldn't; can you do me a favour?_

_What? _He asked blandly_. There's nothing left but the palest grey._

_Get in here and tie my corset for me, it's not pushing my boobs up properly._ The sheer shock that rushed through her from Draco at that statement was hilarious. She almost burst out laughing, but restrained herself as she felt his agreement.

As Hermione waited for him she adjusted the position of her annoying item of clothing, twisting it so that it was in the right place so that it could be tightened into prominently showing her . . . assets. Finally the door opened and Draco stepped into her room. She could feel how uneasy this situation made him feel, so she decided to make it as painless as possible for him. So, without a word she turned her back on him, signalling for him to make his approach. "Just grab the ribbons and yank, it has to be pretty tight or it doesn't look right," she said casually, indicating the ribbons at her back. With an appreciative cough he complied and took hold of the shimmering fabric.

"Ready?"

"Yep."

With one swift, sharp motion he tugged harshly pulling the corset cruelly tight. _Are you okay?_

_Of course, _she answered blandly. _It's supposed to be this tight, now tie the ribbons will you sweetie?_

_Don't call me that, it's as bad as Dragon._ Despite his complaint, Draco quickly tied the ribbons then cast a charm on them to prevent unwanted slackening.

"Thanks, I can never get it tight enough when I do it myself." Shock ran through her, accompanied by anger, before Draco spoke in a calm, measured voice, the voice he only used when something was really wrong. "What is it?"

"What is that, on your shoulder?" She was about to ask what he was talking about, but he must have sensed her confusion as he traced the scar on her shoulder with a cool finger.

"Oh, that." Hermione mumbled with little interest. "That was a drunken vampire who forgot that she was only meant to give me a hicky in our game of spin the bottle." His anger abated a little, but not fully.

"And you're okay with that?" He asked, still running his finger over the two year old wound.

"Yeh, it was only Arra and the others pulled her off me before she could go any further." He was slightly pacified by this, probably because he could sense her ease when it came to vampires.

"Hmm. I'm going to find Snape and see if I can go with you."

"Okay, tell him I'll be ready in about ten minutes please." She felt his grumble of consent and noticed that he seemed to be fairly depressed. So as he started to walk away she turned around and called out to him. He looked to her just in time to see her dive at him. Wrapping her arms around him in an enveloping hug, she poured all the reassurance and happiness into him that she could muster. He buried his face into her neck and held her tightly, the world seeming to slow down around them as they spoke as only they could.

_What's wrong Draco?_ Asked the living ghost, the tears her friend could not shed trickling down her face. _What's wrong my Angel?_ He held her tighter.

_Something is wrong Ghost, something is very wrong. I can tell._ His voice was oddly empty as he whispered to her. _The images came when I was writing, and they won't leave me._

_Show me my sweet Angel, let me see your imagination._

A savage grasp tore from her lungs as Draco plunged her into the depths of his gift, and she saw. She saw why he was so distracted. She felt his cool hand drift over her brow as her eyes settled on a world at war. It was terrifying. But she could not tell who was fighting who. Was that a gun that caused that blood to spray at her feet? Was it magic that obliterated the tank? Was that someone else's gift that turned that building to rubble?

Her eyes snapped closed for a fraction of a second and when they opened she found herself being haphazardly supported by Draco, his grey eyes gazing wordily at her as she leaned back, her spine curved over his arm and her head lolled back, deathly still as though she had been carved of stone. Only her chest moved, and even then the steady rise and fall was restricted by her corset.

She could not process it. She didn't know how. She had dealt with hell, she had dealt with torture, she had dealt with torment. But she could not deal with this. This was too savage. Too grotesque. Too deplorable.

Slowly, Draco pulled her towards him so that she fell against his chest, breathing heavily. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear. This was not the first time she had shared his burden of knowing. She had done it twice before, but nothing could have prepared her for _that._ He held her, letting the images settle as he gently rubbed the bare skin of her back, leaving trails of comforting fire in her flesh. Still she made no movement other than to breathe deeply. "It will pass soon, I swear it." With a gasp she grasped his shirt and buried her face in his chest. Cold sweeping through her. Her breath came in mist and billowed away. Taking with it the feeling of helplessness and disgust. Her shoulders slumped with relief as she could finally feel herself again.

Cautiously Draco released his hold on her. With timid care Hermione stepped away from him, a little unsteady on her feet. She didn't know what to say, what to do. What could she say after she had seen that? This was why the pair were bonded together. If they weren't then Draco would have been driven insane by his logical imagination and her body would not be able to heal the damage done by her seizures without causing another and she would have died of a brain haemorrhage by now.

She could still remember what she had seen, but it didn't effect her any where near as bad as it would have had this been a normal vision. Now it was little more than a bad dream. Easily forgotten. But she had done what she needed to. She had helped it become the same to Draco. Though he would no doubt write it down somewhere, hidden in a poem or in a short story. She knew that she would be drawing it. The confusion. The malice. It was too much to brush off as something to be ignored, a glitch in his mind. _It's forbidden. No one can know. It's just to warn us. To stop one of us from becoming a monster when it comes._

_When will it come?_ There was a long pause as Draco searched Hermione's eyes. She didn't know what he wanted to see, but finally he sighed and answered her before leaving to find Snape.

_Soon._

* * *

"Yes you can come," Severus said before the blond even had a chance to ask. He knew exactly why he had come to him. Draco and Hermione might as well be joined at the hip.

_Jealous._

He fought down a sneer at the wolf, choosing instead to ignore his comment.

"Oh, right. I er, should warn you. Erm, what she's wearing is a little. . ." When he left the sentence hanging Severus turned his head to face the boy, still leaning against the door in a way not at all typical of him, the imposing Potions Master. His arms folded impatiently across his chest. He raised an eyebrow at the boy. He really could be quite irritating when the female of the species was concerned.

He was about to deliver a snide remark when an approaching shadow on the landing caught his attention. Instead of the scathing comment he had ready, he found a murmur of agreement escaping his lips. "I see what you mean."

She looked quizzically at the pair from where she stood on the landing. Neither of them even noticed they were staring. All Severus noticed was Hermione. She was wearing a tight pair of slightly tarnished leather trousers, tucked into heavy boots. There was a small dagger strapped to her right thigh and her corset was provocative to say the least. It was intricately embroidered and decorated with lace, but it was the effect it had on her figure that grabbed their attention. It pushed up her already noticeable bust to an unmissible level and shamelessly flaunted her perfectly curved figure. A shadowy fabric cloak was draped over one shoulder, fastened with a delicate silver clasp just below her throat and her hair was back in a long braid, exposing her slender neck.

_Still denying being attracted to her?_

_Yes,_ he shot back stubbornly.

With a teasing sway to her hips she strode down the stairs towards them. He had never noticed before, always assuming that she had been feminine without being overly and irritably girly, but she held an odd sort of strength in her stance. Almost like a warrior, well, not quite. But the raw material for it was there. Just from watching her move he could tell she would be the sort of person that no one would hesitate to follow, simply because of her confidence, the power she conveyed in her movement.

Then he noticed the unusual pallor to her skin. The odd length and darkness of her finger nails. And finally when she smiled, there were the beginnings of fangs. Finally she stepped from the last stair and twirled around. Showing them the intricate and oddly graceful black tattoo that snaked down her spine. His blood ran cold. It looked real. Too real.

"Miss Granger, please tell me that the Clan Marking on your back is fake."

"Of course it is. It's just a glamour. Well, what do you think?" She asked, almost cheekily. "Will I do?" She twirled again, but his mind was else where. Why did the atmosphere seem so charged all of a sudden? But instead of mentioning this he simply sighed in supposed boredom.

"I suppose you're passable," he conceded. Though guessing from the slight glare she shot at him, that was the wrong answer. In truth she could easily pass as half Vampire from what ever clan the tattoo was from. Her appearance was so carefully crafted that even if someone knew her they would avert their eyes for fear of attracting the kiss of the Vampire. Which, judging from the well hidden scar on her shoulder, Hermione had already experienced.

"Come, it's time to go." She was still scowling at him as they walked to the closest room with a fire place.

_You should say something to her. She's really not in the best of moods with you for what you said._ With a wave of his wand he started a small fire, just big enough to use for transport.

_I didn't say anything that should have offended her._ He snapped irritably, ignoring whatever the wolf had just murmured quietly. No doubt it was something about the idiocy of humans. He seemed to be getting quite fond of finding faults with the species he observed.

_She's female, I've noticed that human females can find something to be offended by in anything a male can say._ It took all of his will power and skill not to laugh out loud at that statement, mainly because it rang so true. He felt the odd hum that always came when the wolf was talking to Hermione, then came her reply, muffled and cracking beyond all recognition. It was annoying, but it helped keep the wolf content. Nightshade really did love her. It had taken him a while to realise that it was a similar way to loving a mother, but not quite. He had noticed an odd element of wistful lust in the wolf. It was a bizarre mix, but it was the way of the wolf and seemed somehow to fit with the situation. She was the Alpha Female so it was not Nightshades place to be with her; rather it was his place to follow her. But that did not stop him from being ambitious.

* * *

_He didn't mean to offend you,_ he sounded sincere enough. But that didn't stop her from being irrationally angry with the Dark Wolf.

_Does he have any idea how much effort I put into this? And all he can say, after ogling me I might add, is that he supposes I'm passable!_

_Well, _murmured the wolf somewhat unsurely, _what did you expect him to say?_

_Oh! I don't know!_ And the truth was she didn't. She didn't even know why she was so upset that he hadn't added something more than that. She was so busy talking to the wolf that she barely noticed their journey through the flue network. _But I wanted more than "passable"._

_He is impressed. _Insisted the wolf. _He's just rubbish at showing it._

_Well, I suppose he is male, _she mumbled in agreement. Then the wolf was sniggering.

_The rivalry between the males and females of your species is so amusing. You all seem to hate each other but love each other at the same time. So, is he forgiven?_ After a heavy sigh she gave in.

_Yes, he's forgiven._ There was a yip of joy as Nightshade returned to his home and host.

To her surprise they were all standing in the back of Flourish and Blots. She hadn't even noticed that they had gone through the flue, let alone that she had started to dust herself off as patrons of the book shop furtively shot her looks of mixed appreciation and absolute fear. After all, she did look like a half Vampire, and they were by far more feared than full blooded vampires. After all, pure Vampires had weaknesses that were more easily exploited, half Vampires only had the ability to age if they so desired. Though they could not turn any human into one of their kind, they could have children, so the Vampire was inevitably bred out through the generations since they were oddly attracted to humans.

"Lead the way," Snape murmured, somewhat passively. He had obviously realised that he had own role to play in this. After all, who would try to take away the natural authority of a half Vampire? Taking up her own role, she gave him a slight nod, sneered at someone who stared a little too long and strode purposefully out of the shop, leaving very relieved if not shaken shoppers in her wake. She made sure to squint away at the sudden rush of light once through the door and cast a loathing glare in the direction of the sun. She also noticed that Snape gave a squint, but it was far more subtle than hers. Thankfully Draco remained impassive and followed as she made for dreary and dimly lit Knockturn Alley. Her pace was impressive and held just the right amount of arrogance and strength. It came easily to her, since she had the traits herself and only his them well. Her friends would recognise the stride as the one she employed when she was particularly proud of something she had done.

In Knockturn Alley people regarded her differently. They weren't so much afraid as wary. And unfortunately very attracted. Which she actually found quite amusing considering she was muggleborn and they would no doubt be utterly disgusted with themselves if they knew. Arra's shop was in the heart of the dark alley. The people bustling around them gave a wide birth to the odd party as they strode down the unevenly cobbled path. The ramshackle shops leaning at awkward angles that banished the sun light. Was it any wonder a Vampire had set up shop here? The place practically cried out for them to come.

Surprising, well for Draco at least, Arra's shop was one of the better kept buildings. In fact it was completely immaculate. Then again most Vampires had a sort of mild and weird obsessive compulsive disorder. And keeping everything clean and in perfect condition was the main part of Arra's. . . Along with scars, though Hermione really didn't want to think that one.

The front of the shop gave the deceiving image that it was a pleasant and quaint place, she had even painted the brickwork white, contrasting brilliantly with the jet black of the roof tiles. Needless to say the shop stood out quite a bit against its dilapidated, dark neighbours. The sign hanging above the door proclaimed the name of the shop to be "Eternity For Fun". Behind the windows were heavy black drapes to block out any unlikely but lethal rays of light from sneaking into her shop and the white painting on the windows let all passers by know that she sold goods which were "rather difficult to acquire in the usual way".

A slight smile graced her lips as she felt Draco's complete astonishment at their destination and she set off at a slightly less imposing pace, but still intimidating enough to keep the rather unscrupulous patrons of this particular alley from wanting to approach her. But all pretence dropped when she opened the door to her friend's domain and heard one of Arra's spectacularly unwelcome welcomes. "Whoa! Sexual tension you'd need a chainsaw to cut!"

"Nice Arra, because my friends really wanted to hear that." She said snidely. The Vampire simple looked up from her counter and gave a cheeky smile, clearly flashing her impressive fangs.

In less than a second she had dashed to Hermione and whisked the human from the floor. Somehow, Hermione was not entirely sure how, she had ended up being held at the Vampires hips with her legs wrapped around her to help keep herself up. Not that her effort would be needed by Arra, but it was more comfortable this way. No matter how much she trusted the Vampire, it never ceases to unnerve her when those pallid violet eyes flicked to her scar. The memory of how it got there was still very vivid to say the least. Judging from the rose in her cheeks, it had not been long since she had fed. "So what brings you here sweetie?" She asked in her rich velveteen voice.

"Potions ingredients," Hermione replied simply, noticing the background music. "Meatloaf?" Arra gave a nod, her white blond curls bobbing slightly with the movement.

"Let me guess, they're ever so slightly illegal."

"I'm shocked that you would even suggest that! They aren't illegal at all. . .They're just hard to get hold of the legal w-"

"I don't recommend touching that Wings," She interrupted looking over to Draco who was about to pick up an innocent looking dagger with a snakes head hilt. "She enjoys biting almost as much as I do."

"Draco, put your hands in your pockets." She suggested as his shock at knowing his secret trickled to her. _She could probably smell it._

"So," said Arra as she gently set Hermione on the floor. "Question one, who is tall, dark and Dracula over there? I think I should know since you two are so obviously attracted to each other that you haven't even managed to notice yet. And number two. What do you want buy?" Hermione suddenly found she couldn't quite remember how to speak. Tall, dark and Dracula? Well, it was appropriate enough she supposed. But attracted to him? He was her professor!

"He teaches potions at the school I attend," she finally snapped irritably. "His name is Severus Snape. Professor, this nuisance is Arra."

"I guessed," he murmured in reply as he searched the contents of a shelf that she had to admit seemed quite interesting.

"So polite," commented the tall, almost albino Vampire. Her white skirt rippling slightly as she turned to go back to her counter. For as long as she had known Arra, the darkest colours Hermione had seen her in were pastel colours. Apparently she didn't get along with darker colours. Though she admitted she was an oddity of her kind. Most of them appeared much like human Goths. "Now, are you going to give me the list or do I have to invade your mind?"

"No, I've got a list." And without further fuss she reached into a hidden pocket on the inside of her cloak, pulled out the list and handed it to the Vampire in attendance. Nodding her head to the music, she scanned the list, murmuring the words to the rock song.

"It's only nothing, that's all I ever get. Every time I turn it on I burn it up and burn it out." Her voice was sweet, but Hermione knew from experience that she was dampening her alluring traits, just from the fact that the two men in the room weren't drooling over her and freely offering their throats. "Oh easy. I've got all of this in stock now. Well, apart from the phoenix feathers. You'll have to sweet talk Sparrow for those." There was a long pause, then finally came the remark she had been waiting for. "A lot of these items are very expensive. How exactly are you going to pay?" There was a sickly hint of knowing in her voice, one that even made the two males in the room look to them when they were being influenced to do just the opposite.

"The usual way," Hermione answered with an uncaring shrug. The Vampires eyes lit up greedily at her words.

"Very well, I'll just get your purchases. Oh, and I'll call Sparrow." And with that she disappeared into the store room.

A quick glance around showed that the shop had not changed since her last visit. It was still crisp and white, with glass and silver display cabinets holding objects that ranged from beautiful to down right bizarre. No, there was a change. There were now two utterly shocked men staring at her.

"What exactly did you mean the usual way?" asked a very unnerved Draco.

"Basically I just fill a goblet with my blood. She loves it. Apparently it tastes different to normal human blood," she explained blandly.

"Does she even know that you want a blood sample from her?" Asked Snape, actually sounding concerned.

"Yes she knows, I added it to the list you gave me. Besides, she's used to people wanting a blood sample."

Flames erupted above the counter. Bloody and flaring. It spilled out into the rugged outline of a swan sized bird. Then it washed backwards, exposing the most spectacular feathers she had ever laid her eyes on. Far more beautiful than any she had ever seen on Fawks. Rich and ruby red, shinnying fiery orange in the light. Finally the whole phoenix, flame free, drifted slowly down onto the counters surface. It as the first time she had seen Arra's phoenix. And she decided that her name was defiantly unworthy of her.

The beautiful bird cocked its head at her as she approached with a mixture of reverence, awe and confidence. Though inside she was terrified. Why would a bird so beautiful want to give its feathers away? "Hello," she said evenly, but respectfully as she stood before Sparrow. The bird opened her beak and gave an ethereal moaning cry that was mournful but somehow filled with joy. She reached out her hand towards the bird, but stopped short of the plumage of her neck. Asking permission to lay her fingers on the perfect feathers. The bird gave a slight nod to her, letting her know her touch was welcome. Without any further hesitation she laced her fingers into feathers, stroking and caressing the birds' neck. A quiet croon wisped from Sparrows throat at the touch. "You really are a magnificent phoenix." The bird puffed out her chest in pride at Hermione's words. She had completely forgotten about the other occupants of the room. This phoenix had her full attention. "I know you're probably very proud of your feathers, and I can see why, they are the most beautiful feathers I've ever seen." She leaned into the living ghosts' soft caress. "And I'm truly sorry to ask you this, but could you please give me two of them? They would be greatly appreciated." Sparrow ruffled her feathers and cocked her head to the side as if to ask why. "I need them so that I can make a potion to prove I'm capable of being a Masters apprentice," she cooed gently to the bird. Trying to coax her into believing her cause was worthy.

The phoenix shivered, knocking her hand away. Hermione felt her heart sink. Disappointed she sighed and started to turn from the bird. Well, that was it. She would never be able to get the feathers. Fawks was overly protective of his feathers. There was no way he would give them up to her, he would not even give them to Dumbledore. She was going to end up working with a substandard Master.

A soft croon from behind caught her attention and she turned back to the phoenix. It looked at her with an oddly calculating gaze. Then it cried out, its unnervingly harmonious song that reached out and gripped at her heart. It searched through her. It called out to her. She knew that this spectacular bird could see everything within her. Her past, her intentions, her dreams and her nightmares. When it finally finished she let out the breath she didn't even know she had been holding. Sparrow was still looking at her.

Then her head disappeared into an outstretched wing, carefully preening. And when she emerged from her shimmering wing there were two feathers in her beak, held out to her freely. With no price for them. They were a gift.

Hermione's spirit soared at the sight. She almost could not believe what her eyes were showing her. With an oddly calm joy flooding every part of her she reverently reached out and took the feathers with a gentle hand. "_Thank you_," she whispered, not entirely sure if she said it or sent it to the bird, but either way the sentiment was there. Hermione found herself gently stroking her again. It was the least she could do after this wonderful bird had just given her the chance to live her dreams. Now all she had to do was not screw up the potion.

"You must have a pure purpose and an equally pure heart." The words, spoken by Arra as she lay down the bag of ingredients on the counter, came close to startling her, but fell short and simply caught her attention. "She would not have given up her feathers if not. Now, I believe this is one of my very few daggers that isn't cursed and or poisonous." Hermione looked to the Vampire to find that she was holding a dagger towards her, tarnished hilt first.

"It better be. I still haven't forgiven you for handing me that knife that set my blood on fire." Arra simply looked away and whistled innocently as Draco stared at her in horror and Snape simply rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"How on Earth did you survive that?" asked an almost panicked Draco.

"I froze her," answered Arra easily, chuckling slightly. "It was actually quite funny." Then at seeing Hermione's unimpressed raised eyebrow, she amended her words. "Well, it was to me, but I have a sick sense of humour." She did not however, stop smiling at the memory.

"Give me the goblet you irritating wench."

"Oh you love it," answered Arra, tossing the bronze goblet to the young woman.

With little interest, Hermione set the goblet on Arra's pristine counter, set the blade of the dagger firmly against the palm of her right hand and quickly dragged it away. She didn't even give a slight flinch at the sharp sting that followed the blade, nor did she pay any attention to the dull ach that she was left with. She simply held the bleeding wound over the empty goblet and flexed her hand a little to keep the blood flow steady. Though she would admit to being very tempted to let a little of her blood dampen the glass surface of the counter. But she managed to control this urge by remembering that Arra would most likely maul her if she did so.

"Well, no catastrophe yet," announced Arra proudly.

"If the blood flow doesn't stop when you put the phoenix tears on I swear, I'll bleed all over you pretty white carpet here." At Arra's obvious shock, Hermione let her lips form an elegant smirk.

"Don't you dare!" She snapped. "It was bad enough you got a few drops on my crystal counter last time that happened!"

"I take it incidents like that happen quite frequently," commented the unusually quiet potions Master in their midst.

"Far too frequently," Hermione replied wryly.

"Look, if you handled as many knives and daggers in one day as I do you would have difficulty remembering which ones should come with a health hazard warning!"

"Goblet's full, I would quite like to not have to bleed on anything else to get my point acr-"

Sparrow leaned over her hand. She felt a cool dampness surreally different to that of her blood. Then the ach dulled and slowly disappeared as the phoenix moved back, away from her formally wounded hand.

"Thank you," she murmured gratefully to the bird.

"She must really like you, it's rare she heals anyone."

They stayed for almost an hour in Arra's shop and through out she was polite enough to not drink the blood that Hermione had donated. Conversation was fairly pleasant, even if it was punctuated by small scale argument between Hermione and either Snape or Arra. But the most irritating part was that when she was arguing with Snape Arra and Draco would exchange knowing looks that would only spur the participants of the argument into further conflict. When they finally did leave Hermione was not the only one ho had a large amount of potions ingredients. Snape had discovered the virtues of Arra's quaint little shop as well.

When the reached the end of Knockturn Alley Hermione dropped all pretence that she was even loosely Vampiric, drapped her cloak over her arm but let the mark on her back. She would never tell Snape but one of Arra's friends had put that there as a thank you for saving Arra. It was guaranteed protection against vampires, even though it hurt like hell, but she had expected no less since it was a combination of Vampire blood magic and your average tattoo.

People still avoided her since she really could not do a thing about the fangs, nails, skin tone and tattoo, but at least they weren't quite as afraid of her as they might have been. Draco and Hermione made a pact to irritate Snape by acting their age for once and play fighting all the way to the Leaky Cauldron. . . Then got very scared when Snape decided that the best way to stop them was to join in with the pushing and shoving. Needles to say it worked very, very, very quickly. Though why he never put his understanding of immature gits to use in his class room neither adolescent could fathom. But they had fun speculating to each other and received several worried glances from Snape when one of them would burst out laughing, seemingly for no apparent reason. Which both were thrilled to note had the added benefit of making the teacher in attendance get quite paranoid.

_Maybe it because he thinks his face will crack if he smiles at one of them._ Laughter erupted from Hermione and she quickly covered her mouth to try and stifle it as several people stared at her regardless of her intimidating stance and Snape stopped and turned to look at the pair. . . for the eighth time in less than five minutes. Draco's attempts to stop himself from laughing were only slightly more successful than her own and his shoulders shook with the suppressed reflex action.

"Sorry Sir," she mumbled through her hands, still giggling slightly.

"Has someone somehow managed to get you two to ingest every form of artificial colouring that muggles have ever invented at some point after we left Arra's shop?"

"Trust me, if she was hyper she would far worse than this. She'd be so bad _I'd_ end up bouncing off the walls because of it."

With exasperation clear in his expression, Snape led them into the Leaky Cauldron and their good mood died instantly. The atmosphere was thick with grief and heavy with fear. She could feel it stronger than anything. Not just from being able to see it in the patrons but because it was strong enough to grip at her heart. The inn or pub, or whatever the place was classed as even seemed to weep over the loss of something. Finally she snapped. She knew someone would have to answer her simply because of how she looked at the moment. So she grabbed a waitress by the arm, making sure she was firm but gentle.

"What's happened, has Voldemort made another attack?" No one even flinched at the name. That only made her worry increase ten fold.

"No miss," answered the timid barmaid as she neared tears. "It's the muggle world. They've found out about us, and they've burnt one of our alive on their tellies."

Her hand dropped away in numb shock and an old habit surfaced.

"Oh my god."

* * *

A/N Sorry it so long. I had a little falling out with my computer.

Thanks for reading, now REVIEW! (please)


	6. Sensitive Viewers May Wish to Turn Away

A/N Sorry this took so long but it was matching me for being a bitch. You'll all probably hate me for this chapter but neh. Can you guys do me a favour and tell me if you think the rating should go up because of this chapter, I've had a really hard time trying to figure out if it should.

* * *

Chapter Six: Sensitive Viewers May Wish To Turn Away

Voldemort stood at the electrical appliance shop, among the muggles who stopped and stared. But he did not stare; he glared at what the televisions all showed. A prim and proper news reader sat at her desk, talking blandly into the camera with her almost standard English voice. It was pathetic. Exposing two utterly secret worlds and alienating both of them. Not to mention one of the most idiotic things that anyone with an ounce of power could do.

"The police fire arms unit cornered the two teens in a street that was thankfully almost empty. Only three officers survived the combat with these so call "genetically enhanced" fifteen year olds and only one of these is expected to survive the night, though whether she will be able to continue with her duties after she has recovered can not be seen. We now have a scene of the battle against the two teenagers; sensitive viewers may wish to look away now."

The small picture behind the news reader came to the foreground and enlarged to fill the screen. It showed two terrified teenagers, one an Asian boy dressed in purposefully tattered jeans and a Greenday tee-shirt and the other a pale Caucasian girl in a short black skirt, fish net tights, high heeled boots and a long sleeved top, her eletric blue hair shimmering in the light. They both had one hand outstretched at the circle of armoured police around them, and their other hand was holding that of the other teen.

The girl thrust her free hand forward. The ground cracked and surged up, darting towards the police. The boy splayed his fingers, his skin giving off an odd shimmering as they were fired at. But the bullets stopped in the air all around them. With more dramatic gestures from the girl, a wave of concrete, tarmac and soil rose up to crush their enemy. A twitch of the boys head sent a car flying through the air at the officers.

Then they cut back to the news reader. "The girl has been identified as fifteen year old Laura Fenton and the boy as fifteen year old Marcus Bradley. Both of them were shot dead during the conflict with the police. It is unclear why the police were ordered to peruse and kill the pair, but we can only assume that they were a danger to society as Laura had the ability to manipulate the Earths crust and Marcus could create and control powerful magnetic fields. Though whether these were their only abilities is unknown. What is known however is that there are many more people like this, and the government is calling out for them to be identified." A number stared to roll across the bottom of the screen. "If you, or anyone you know has such an ability please do not hesitate to phone the number which is being shown now." _Yes, because it's intelligent to give your self up when you've just seen what happens to freaks who are found out,_ he thought with bitter sarcasm.

"On other news, a woman was apprehended yesterday for "obliterating" the memories of a government official-"

"Obliviating actually," he murmured out of habit, earning several fearful glances from the muggles who were watching as well. This did not bother him though, truth be told they should be utterly terified of him.

"-using what is thought to be "magic". The government has been held to ransom by so called witches and wizards for centuries and have often been threatened into silence to supposedly protect the public from the alleged malice of the Wizarding World. The law which makes witchcraft a crime punishable by deathwas been reinstated three days ago and the witch, identified as a Mrs Molly Weasley, who was arrested earlier this weekwith the use ofnewly developed technology, resistant to most forms of magic, was burnt alive in a furnace for her crimes late last night.

"Once again, more sensitive viewers may wish to turn away."

* * *

"Draco, get that pain in the arse gift of yours in gear and show me what happened," Hermione ordered sternly. She was furious, more than making up for the utter numbness that swept through Draco and Snape. Her words and accidental taking up of the demeanour of a half Vampire was enough to snap them out of their shock. 

"I'll need to go into muggle London and watch the people there. They're the ones who know and caused what happened."

"Right, so we need to transfigure our clothes so we don't get mobbed and murdered," she stated simply as she swirled her cloak from her shoulders. A quick wave of her wand later and it was no longer a heavy fabric cloak, but an ankle length leather coat. And wearing it she looked no different from any other muggle Goth. Even her tattoo fit the description.

"As much as I loath the idea of entering a place that has just displayed the public execution of one of our own," Snape said blandly, without his usual sarcasm, showing just how deeply this had shaken him. "I would like to know what has happened in full as I'm sure many details will be altered and omitted when this event is printed."

Less than twenty minutes later Draco was dressed as an alternative, with baggy jeans covered in band patches and an Iron Maiden tee shirt. Snape somehow ended up looking like their father as he had transfigured his outer robes into a suit jacket and simply removed his wait coat, shrank it and put in his pocket. Leaving him wearing plain black trousers, a crisp white shirt and black jacket. He also did not seem particularly impressed with the fact that he looked like their father and Hermione made a mental note to annoy him about it if she managed to get her, place as his apprentice. And as a precaution he had given all their purchases toTom with orders to send them to the Burrow straight away.

After what felt like far too long they were out in the streets of London. Pain lanced through her skull. A warning. She dashed to Draco, catching him as he fell. Pressing his palms into his eyes as she held him, gritting his teeth in pain.

_Draco, should I-_

"No, stay out," he rasped. "It's not much, just- oh Merlin. It was Mrs Weasley."

"What!" Anger boiled through her veins as Snape stared in shock. How _dare _they do that to her!

"I need to get to a place called Piccadilly Circus."

"Are you sure you can handle this?" asked the oldest of them.

"After what I saw this morning I can handle anything," replied her Angel, determination setting solidly in his silver eyes. "Now, Piccadilly Circus?"

"This way," said Snape, gesturing for them to follow him.

As they hurriedly walked through the full and bustling streets of London their journey was slowed by Dracos flashing vision. He stumbled well over twelve times, always relying on an increasingly worried Hermione to catch him as he fell. She could feel his building headache, but he would not let her in, not yet. Not until he had something coherent to show her, to share with her.

He fell again, grabbing her arm. Clutching it so tightly she knew she would bruise. That was when he started to mutter to himself. Trying to piece everything together. Without asking him she wrapped her mind around him, letting him take some comfort for her. Cold bit into her skin as he greedily took all the comfort offered.

Finally they reached Piccadilly Circus. Horror rushed through her as Draco froze and stared up to the screen that bent around the building before them. His eyes widened with an emotion that she could feel from him but words failed to describe. He started to tremble. A tingling sensation rushed about her back.

"No, not here." But there was nothing she could do. Nothing but warn Snape. Worry prevalent in her eyes she quickly turned to face the older man. "Be ready to apperate. He can't fully handle it. He's changing."

"So are you," he answered quietly, trying not to draw more attention to them, but at the same time clearly showing his worry.

She frowned, holding her hands up to look at them. They were starting to turn translucent. They weren't blue yet but they were close. She swallowed hard and looked to Draco. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. Breathing hard and fast. Fire flashed sharply in her mind. But it was gone almost instantaneously.

"Not. Just-" he stopped, breathing hard as if to catch his breath. "Magic." He turned his worried eyes onto Hermione. "Us. As. Well."

She paled further as muggles noticed them. Backing away and staring in fear and horror. Glowing an ethereal blue, Hermione turned to face Snape, who was eying the crowd nervously with his hand hovering over his wand.

"Go," she murmured, wings rapidly spreading behind her. "Now."

Draco dashed towards her lifting her easily from the ground, blasting everyone around with a rush of air as he forced them into flight.

* * *

His upper lip curled and a low growl rumbled from his throat as the crowd teetered on the edge of becoming a mob. The silhouette of Draco and Hermione rapidly diminished in the distant sky. He hadn't thought the boy could move that fast. 

With a sneer Severus rose from his attack ready crouch up to his full height, openly glaring at the faceless muggles who threatened to attack. He took out his wand with a flourish, twirling it about his deft fingers. Then aperated with a purposefully louder than usual crack. With a heavy sigh he quickly transfigured is clothing back to their usual appearance.

A quick glance around showed that he had managed to get to into the right street and it was blessedly empty, not that it mattered any more. Adrenalin, shock and outrage, as well as something more animal, more primal, coursed through him as he dashed to the front door of the Orders headquarters. Not caring if he woke that infernal portrait, he pounded on the door, frantically calling out to the wolf.

_Nightshade!_

_Alpha? _He replied timidly, sensing the mans foul mood and its cause.

_Get hold of the Alpha Female. Tell her to get back here with the Winged One! _"Open the door! Damn it!"

* * *

Nightshade had never seen Alpha this angry before. So with that in mind he reached out to the Alpha Female. _Alpha? When will you return to the den?_

_The den?_ She replied with slight confusion, he could tell her attention was elsewhere. _Oh, I know what you mean. Some time tomorrow morning, when Draco has his sanity back. And tell Alpha Male to inform the Order of Draco's gift._

_She says they'll be back tomorrow morning, and that you should tell everyone about Wings._

_Not good enough! _Alpha snapped back venomously. _Tell them to get here now!_

_Alpha says you have to come back straight away._ This was confusing for him.

_There is no way in hell we're coming back yet_, now the Alpha female was angry, even more so than she had been in London. _To me, Draco comes first and he needs time to remember who he is after seeing what he's seen. We'll be back in the morning!_ And with that she was gone.

The door opened as Nightshade delivered Alpha Female's final remark, leaving the Alpha Male ever more infuriated.

"We're screwed," was his most uncharacteristic greeting to theviolet haired witch who opened the door.

* * *

Hermione kept her eyes closed as Draco carried her though the air, his powerful wings beating with all the force of a dragons, despite their glowing bronze feathers. Her arms were wrapped around his neck as he held her bridal style. The flight was smoother than she had expected, but still slightly jarring. She hummed a soft tune to try and calm him. He was verging on madness from the intensity of what he had seen. His thought and feelings that reached her were nonsensical, but she had more than enough experience with the insane to not find the coming situation daunting. 

The rushing air, both the wind and caused by the sheer speed at which Draco flew, whipped her hair and coat about. She knew where they were going. He had taken her to the same place twice before. She only hoped that the tide was out. Timidly she opened her eyes and glanced around only to find open water all around them, with the exception of a tiny spit of land that was rapidly approaching.

In less than a minute Draco snapped his wings back, stopping their break neck speed, to slowly drift down onto the moss covered centre of the small uninhabited island. He set her down gently then stumbled back, shakily folding his wings behind him as he looked away from her, running a nervous hand through his dishevelled hair. After a second to gather his footing he noticed the remains of he tattered t-shirt and brushed it off, dropping it to the ground.

Hermione approached with a motherly smile, one that she usually reserved for her own mother. He glanced to her then looked away, an odd amount of eccentricity in his movement.

"Draco sweetie," she murmured softly, reaching a hand towards his cheek. "You have to let me in." He batted her hand away fearfully. Shaking his head like a small child, yet he still shyly approached her, as if simultaneously drawn to her yet having his instincts tell his to run. "Sweetheart, you know this is the only way that you'll get better." His eyes were wide and glassy with fear as he looked at her, taking another step closer, yet moving his face away.

Then his shoulders slumped and he bowed his head like a scolded child. With a deep breath to steady herself, Hermione leaned against Draco, her hand cupped against his face level with his eyes.

She gasped at the slight pain such a harsh vision caused as she was roughly thrown into her Angels gift.

The trouble with his imagination was that it showed every perspective involved and in this case nurtured the already steadily growing fire of loathing in the living ghost's rapidly beating heart.

* * *

Severus stumbled back, crashing against the kitchen counter from the force of the blow. Not saying a word he simply pressed the back of his hand to his nostril then pulled it back to see if he was bleeding. Why did they always go for thesodding nose! 

"You're lying!" cried the distraught new widower. With a heavy sigh Snape pushed away from the counter, satisfied that he wasn't bleeding, and looked to the pitiful sight that the man had become in the space of a sentence.

"I assure you Arthur, I speak the truth." There was none of the familiar venom in his voice, but nor was there pity. There was however tact and resignation.

He still had his fists at the ready and Severus noted that no one seemed ready to restrain him. But he was shaking and on the verge of tears. Let him strike out a few times if that was how he dealt with his grief. He had already discovered from the single punch to his nose that his endurance had drastically increased from the fact that it hadn't really hurt that much. Or at least no where near as much as it had the last time he had been hit in the face.

Ron was clinging to the counter on the other side of the kitchen, his knuckles white and his breathing harsh with rage just beneath the surface. Ginny, the youngest Weasly, was sat at the table, trembling with loud ugly sobs, Tonks trying in vain to comfort her. "I'm sorry for your loss, I really am. But at the moment we have something a little more important to worry about, like the fact that the muggle population has become very aware of our world have little less than proclaimed war upon us."

"I'll bare that in mind for when you loose someone!" He swung his fist at the potions master again. His instincts kicked in and he caught the blow with bone crunching ease, surprising even himself. He did not release his tight grip on the other mans' fist, but he did hold some sympathy for him, so he kept his snide remarks to himself and simply continued his report.

"We won't know exactly what happened until tomorrow morning, when Draco and Hermione return," Severus said calmly. He didn't realise it, but he had taken up the role that Nightshade had always pronounced him to be, the pack leader, the Alpha Male. However, the other nine people in the room did notice, and for some reason they felt obliged to follow his lead much as they would Dumbledore's. "However I think we can safely assume they harbour us more ill will then they have in the last few centuries."

* * *

Voldemort paced in his study. It was a habit which had given rise to many of his best schemes and plots. It was a disaster that the muggle world had not only discovered the magical world, but had developed magic resistant technology in order combat it. On one hand it was a good thing as more followers would flock to his cause, but that was the only salvageable point out of the entire atrocity. In fact it rendered his own war as rather self destructive. His aim was to strengthen the wizarding world by taking it over. Now however to continue his plans to take control would only weaken their resistance to the muggles. However. . . 

Hmm. . . He could thin out the number of muggles that posed a threat rather easily. Their training camps were easy to locate, as were their government buildings. Of course he would have to wait until war was officially declared or he would simply be fuelling persecution and increasing the fever with which they were hunted. But he could wait a few days. Even the incompetent Minister for Magic could not ignore the public execution of one of their own.

His pets would be having their fun after all.

* * *

"_They're just children!"_

"_Silence you idiot," he snapped at the foolish woman who had been placed as his secretary. "They happen to be children who could destroy a city on a whim!"_

_He watched unimpressed as she raised her hand fire swirling around it in an attempt to intimidate him. He had known that she was a freak for almost a week now and hand been planning to dispose of her for equally as long._

"_Call back the squad or I'll burn you to a cinder." Her voice was calm and measured. It wasn't capable of being cruel however, nor was she. Unfortunately for her, he was._

_Quick as a flash he drew a well hidden handgun. BANG. The fire faded as she fell to the floor, a bullet wound between her eyes. With a sneer he used his radio to call someone to come and clean up the mess._

_Laura stumbled as Marcus, the boy she was bonded with pulled her along. "Come on!" he cried in fear and confusion._

"_Do you have any idea how hard it is to run in heels!" she snapped back, trying as hard as she could to keep up with him._

"_Then why did you wear them?"_

"_Oh I'm so sorry! I forgot that being chased down like rabid animals by government nut jobs, was on the agenda today!" A quick glance over her shoulder showed that the gang of agents that looked like police were gaining on them. Being a very strong empath Marcus could feel their pursuers' sheer glee at chasing them down, and the sadistic pleasure was so strong that it spilled out of his refined control and into her consciousness._

_It was this more than anything that spurred them on. But they were tiring and adrenalin could only push them so far. Unfortunately it wasn't their bodies giving out that caused them to skid to a stop with Laura nearly crashing into him. She steadied quickly and saw why her friend had stopped. Another unit slowly coming towards them from the other end of the street._

_They had been herded like cattle. Trapped in a situation that could only lead to death. There were simply too many to fight off. _An animal fights most fiercely when it knows that death is inevitable._ Marcus looked to her with his mouth set in a grim line, knowing exactly what she meant from her mental message. Her eyes were set in the way they always were when she was determined to do something, no matter how foolish it might be. He smiled, knowing what was going to happen._

_With no warning he quickly pressed his lips to hers, and then pulled back, a slight smile on his face that screamed trouble. It was a smile she knew well from their childhood and she returned it in earnest, not caring that he had kissed her. She had known for a while that he was in love with her._

If they want to slice us open to see how we tick I refuse to them do it while we're alive.

_With determination and terror shining in their eyes, they took a firm hold of each others hand and watched with mounting trepidation as the armed and armoured agents circled them._

_Then they waited._

_He watched the events on his monitor with a satisfied smile. The teens were surrounded; they had no way of escaping. Lethargically he bought the two way radio up to his mouth._

"_Tell them to surrender," he said almost lazily. "And if they don't, kill them."_

"_Hand yourselves over without a fight and you won't be harmed."_

He's lying,_ Marcus informed her easily._

"_Bollocks! If you want us, come and bloody get us!" she had always been the more . . . outgoing of the pair, so it was left up to Laura to _negotiate_. The agents readied their weapons, and so did the teens, holding their hands, palm out to their attackers, oblivious to the camera crew that lay hidden in the upstais bedroom of one of the near by houses._

* * *

Albus was quite surprised to find that his mad dash had been met by "we know," from almost everyone. Understandably he was just as distraught as everyone else, only he hid it better. But Severus could easily smell the sickly scent of fear drifting from him. From him and everyone else who had come out of shock long enough for the situation to sink in. 

Bizarrely however, he could not find it in himself to be afraid. He knew he should be, yet he wasn't. It was completely irrational, but the only thing he felt that came close to fear at that specific moment was a worry for Draco and the Alpha Fem- _Hermione,_ he stubbornly corrected himself. He didn't know where they were, if they were safe. And what was worse was that Nightshade was finding it entirely impossible to contact her.

_It's like she's dark worlding,_ the wolf had said.

_She's what?_

_Sleeping so deep she goes to the dark world. Sees things, dreams, memories, sometimes even the future and can't be woken up,_ he had explained.

_You mean she's in a coma?_

_Yes!_ The wolf yipped excitedly. _Yes, a coma. That's what humans call it. I didn't know the word._

* * *

_The middle-aged witch struggled against the two guards that had a fierce hold on her arms and were dragging her towards him. When they were only a step away, they stopped, but her struggle did not. "Now, now Mrs Weasly," he said with a scolding note to his voice as he took the wand that one of the guards offered him. "This is most unbecoming of a woman you age." After a cursory glance at the pale wooden object, he pocketed it._

"_Just what do you think you're doing! Unhand me at once!"_

"_Now we can't do that," he said smugly. "You're a criminal. Or did you not know that witchcraft was reinstated as a crime to which the penalty is death only yesterday?" He smiled pleasantly at the look of sheer open mouth shock and repulsion that made it's home on her face. It was moments like this that made the mundane task of paper work worth while. Just like those two children had made his morning. Come to think of it he wondered if their dissection was nearly complete._

"_That's ridiculous! I- I-"_

"_You madam are sentence to death by being burnt alive. The furnace is being readied as we speak," he told her amiably. Then at her look of sheer terror he decided to slightly soften the blow. "Now it isn't all that bad. You could have been apprehended a month or so earlier. What you would have endured then would far worse than death. Unfortunately our studies did not provide anything other than a way to render your _magic_ fairly useless. Oh there are a few varieties we've not been able to overcome, but there are limits to technology._

"_Take her to the furnace." Her only thoughts as she was dragged along were not for her own safety. They were of her children. Oh Merlin she hoped they would be alright. She hoped they would survive the war. She wished she could see them marry, have children of their own. But now she would never know._

_Overwhelming sorrow rushed through her at those realisations. She would never see her family again. She could not even tell them all she loved them. That she was proud of them. She could never tell Arthur that he had given her the best years of her life. She wouldn't even know if Ron or Hermione had gotten the head position. Her heart wrenched painfully. She would be missing so much. _

_A defiant tear fought from her left eye as she gave up struggling against the guards. It was pointless anyway. She would never be able to get out this wretched facility even if she did manage to get away from the two brutes that were man-handling her towards her death. Not without her wand. Wandless magic had been trained out of her years ago. There was no use. The only thing she could do now was try to reclaim her dignity as she was practically dragged through the sterile white corridors._

_So she forced them to slow down, grinding her heels against the pristine tiles, putting an oddly satisfying grove in them. They stopped for a second so that they could get better footing for yanking her along, only to find that she was standing up straight, pouring the pride back into her posture. They didn't allow her to wipe away the rebel tear stain on her cheek, but they did let her regain her former pride of posture. And they were also _kind_ enough to let her set a more civilised pace, accepting her wish to walk with honour to her last moments as her final request._

_So she was escorted far more gently than before, but still with a bruising grip on her arms. Her head held high, her back straight, she looked every bit the matriarch that she was._

_The furnace when they reached it did not look to be that impressive. It was just another clinically clean steel door. Before Molly had much chance to fully take in the scenery the door slowly swung open of its own accord, probably something mechanical. _Arthur would find it fascinating _she thought, forcing back more tears._

"_In there," one of the faceless ruffians ordered as a guard made to shove her in. But she harshly shook off their hands. Taking deep shuddering breaths Molly stood tall and proud, brushing herself down, wanting to look well presented for some reason. On shaky legs she slowly walked forwards, her lower lip trembling. Tears now spilling freely down her cheeks._

"_I raised them as best as I could," she mumbled to herself. "They'll be fine on their own." Such was her repeating mantra as she proudly stumbled to the centre of the circular room, her reassurance for facing the after life._

_A slight smirk played about his lips as he watched her through the eight inch think heat resistant fibre glass as she stood trembling with a sort of regal self restraint in the middle of the scorched furnace. She was much more dignified facing her death than most of the others had been. Most of the other had been on the floor in hysterics by this point. Weeping shamelessly and begging for mercy. In all honest he had found it quite amusing._

"_Start it up," he ordered blandly. The smartly dressed and dark haired woman who sat at the computer controls started to type away, putting in the appropriate settings for the fuel consumption, duration of time it was to work and so on. All the time Molly Weasly, the middle aged fiery haired witch, just another freak, stood muttering to herself. No doubt something about her children. He doubted any woman could get their figure to the state hers was in without bearing at least three of the little brats._

"_Starting gas release now."_

_At the loud rushing noise that came from the pipes used to channel the gas, the witch squeezed her eyes closed, crying. But not the garish hideous sobs that most females and some males often gushed. These were quite, private. Despite himself he felt a sort begrudging respect for her. No matter. He would have forgotten her by breakfast tomorrow._

"_Ignition in three, two, one." She hit the return button on her keyboard. Flames erupted from the gas holes in the walls of the furnace. Engulfing the room. A hideous, piercing scream no doubt rang through chamber, but it was blocked out by the sheer thickness of the walls._

_He watched with great satisfaction as she writhed in amongst the fire, almost indecipherable within the all consuming flames. One less freak in the world. Now if only they could round up the rest of them and dispose of them similarly._

"_Are you getting this?" he asked the cameraman who was trying his hardest to keep the contense of his stomach where it belonged. He gave a weak nod as his lip curled. "Pathetic," he mumbled heartlessly._

* * *

"Hermione!" Draco called frantically as her faintly blue and almost completely see through chest shuddered and heaved to drag air into her lungs. If he hadn't been holding her he wouldn't have thought she was there, her image was so feint. He could the tear pouring from her eyes far more easily than he could see her. In the vein hope that it might help to more clearly define her image, he wrapped his large, glowing, bronze wings around them. 

He could feel the hate burning through her above anything else. Above the sorrow, above the loss, above the fear. The loathing dwarfed every other emotion she held in her aching heart. This time perhaps the price she had paid for helping to restore his sanity had been far too high. She had seen the worst in muggles, the very worst being that cleanly clipped and smartly dressed man who could most likely give Lord Voldemort a run for his money when it came to the depths of their depravity.

Unfortunately Hermione had already had ample reasons to hate muggles. Being bullied for being a freak by fellow pupils and teachers alike during her early education, a pervert for a father, hounding by her neighbours and numerous other reasons, far too many to list. But this had been the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. This had showed her that she had not simply been unlucky as she had always thought. This had convinced her that the only muggle worth her time was her mother.

Finally she looked to him, and he knew that she had turned her eyes to him because of their connection. _Are we staying here tonight or going back?_ She asked weakly, trying to keep the new found fire of hate from her mental voice.

_I'm too tired to fly back tonight._ And it was true. In the space of two hours he had flown from Piccadilly Circus in London to a tiny uninhabited island five miles from the coast of the very tip of Scotland. It was ridiculous amount for him to fly in that space of time, but it was his safe haven. His instincts dragged him to this place if anything ever became too overwhelming. _We'll stay here tonight; the ground is covered in thick moss. It's comfortable enough._

She was a little more solid tan she had been when they lay down to get some sleep. Hermione with her head on Dracos bare chest and him with his wings wrapped around her as a comfort and a guard against the cold sea air that inevitably assaulted them when on such a small spit of land that was so far north. He watched the young woman he was bonded to with worry in his eyes and his heart as she slept. He didn't need to worry about her 'overhearing' his thought and feeling while she was a sleep. So he was free to worry. He had not been blind to the darkness that had taken root in her heart. It had been there for as long as he had known her. How could she not have a little twisted darkness with the past that she had to endure? But what worried him, what forced his eyes to the stars and away from his dear friend, was that the tiny seed of darkness had grown and blossomed into a wicked rose in the space of a few hours. Beautiful, but deadly, as she would no doubt now become.

* * *

Hermione was pleased to note when she awoke that Dracos' wings had changed from the beautiful glowing bronze feathered wings that indicated extreme negative emotions, to the odd bat like albino wings that were even paler than his own skin tone. Showing that his mood had reached something that could be considered at least close to normal. She was even more pleased, though ecstatic might have been a better word for it, to note that she was now entirely visible again and not blue in the slightest. 

It was no surprise to her that she was the first one awake. Poor Draco had probably been kept up for most of the night by his wings constantly changing in structure and type as his emotions stopped piquing and began to level out. She felt oddly guilty for being able to sleep through the whole night until well past the end of sun rise. Especially having seen what se had the night before. But as in most cases it had reduced to nightmare status in her mind. Only all the more horrific because she knew it had really happened and because she had had to not only watch Mrs Weasly, Ron mother and a mother figure for herself, be burnt alive, but feel it as well without being able to do any thing to stop it.

It was vile! It was barbaric! It was- . . . it was expected if she told the truth. She had seen what muggles who were considered to be 'good people' were capable of her entire life. In the back of her mind she had always known that this would happen if the Wizarding world or the G.E. (Genetically Enhanced, those like Draco and herself) were ever discovered. But she had thought that it would happen separately. She had never thought for a single second that both of her secret worlds would be found out at the same time. That war would be declared against both of them at the same time.

It was ludicrous! Not to mention idiotic to make an enemy out of both worlds when each of them had their true depths and power hidden so well that the Muggle world would never be able to discover what kind of forces they would be up against.

But what worried her most was what that corporate whore had said before Mrs Weasly was lead to her death.

_Unfortunately our studies did not provide anything other than a way to render your _magic_ fairly useless._

They could combat their magic.

* * *

Furiously, the new Minister for Magic hurled a hand full of flue powder into the roaring fire in his office. His straw blond hair pulled back into a harsh pony tail and his robes practical but intimidating, this was a man with experience, a man who you did not want to anger. Unfortunately the muggle world had done just that by publicly executing one of his people. A snarl firmly in place upon his thin lips he stormed into the flaring green flames. 

The flue network whorled around him but he paid it little heed. He was far too furious to notice the trivialities that he had grown up around. So what if he was surrounded by green fire that did not burn his flesh. Molly Weasly, mother of seven, wife to one of his own damn employees, had not been quite so lucky as himself. Her flames had been red and charred her away to nothing! What was the comfort her family now! What was he to tell her children? What was he meant to say to her husband! 'I'm sorry that our government could not save your wife from the hands a few savage, demented muggles. Here's a few hundred galleons for your loss!'

A victim of this bloody Light verses Dark war he could understand. He could even handle. But the opening manoeuvre in yet another potential war was intolerable. Someone would pay for this insult to his world! And it would not just be proverbial heads that rolled. Let You-Know-Who try and force him to give up power by threatening large groups of muggles now. He could kill as many as he wanted for all he cared.

Finally he crashed to a stop in the fireplace of the muggle Prime Ministers office. Not even brushing himself off he stepped from the hearth and quickly scanned the pompous, dark wood covered room, spotting the pathetic specimen of a human almost immediately, standing in front of his desk, smirking slightly at him, standing with another smarmy looking excuse for a civilised creature.

Then suddenly they didn't look quite so smug once the Minister for magic had apperated to right in front of the Prime Minister, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, half dragged half swung the weakling man to the other side of the room and violently slammed him against the panelled wall. Fifty seven he may be, but running around after three young grandchildren and a fondness for playing Harix (one of the more physically demanding and violent, if not quite so well know sports of the Wizarding world) would hardly allow him to loose much strength with age.

"I'd like to know just one thing," he snarled close to the other ministers' face as the prim and proper looking sleaze bag scrambled around for a phone or some other muggle means of communication. He whipped out his wand. "Pertifis totalis!" The mans arms snapped to his sides as he went stiff as a bord, rocking on his heels a little before falling over. He didn't care that only witches and wizards could wear that spell away with time. Let the bastard starve to death. His aura reeked of murder anyway.

"What exactly has my world done to yours that warranted that foul display of murder on you oh so entrancing flashing screens? Or was it what our most recent nut job with delusions of grandeur has done to your world?" His words were pure venom and his eyes stared coldly into those of the now suitable terrified muggle he had pinned to the wall.

"All through history _your kind _have left us to suffer from disease when one spell from you could have given us a cure. You've terrorised us through the ages, not content with ruling just you own world, but ours as well." The loathing in his words could almost match the incensed Minister for Magics. Almost. "Not only that but you see fit to remove children from our world, from their families if they show the slightest signs of magic, no matter how pathetic it might be. You _people_ are disgusting savages!"

"First of all, the magic in our bodies prevents us from getting the diseases you are talking about so we no more have a cure for them than you do, if anything your world has terrorised ours, with the hanging and burning that came in the dark ages. Yet we did not hold it against _your kind._ I no more rule your country than you rule mine. It just happens that to keep my people safe I sometimes have to come over into your _territory_." He stressed the word, making the Prime Ministers kind seem like mere animals. As for the children we supposedly remove from their world and their families, we offer them the chance to learn to use the magic they were born with if there is enough within them so that they could live as a normal witch or wizard _should they choose so._ Just because they attend a boarding school for five to seven years does not mean that they are snatched away from their families! And as for my people being disgusting savages, we were not the ones who publicly displayed the murder of a happily married woman who has seven children!"

After a moment of breathing heavily, without releasing the now very dishevelled muggle, the still enraged Minister made the mistake of throwing him to the floor near where the other man had been scrabbling about. He scrambled to his feet and dashed behind the ridiculously large and chunky oak desk.

"You're going to regret that!" The Minister for Magic simply raised an eyebrow at the threat, watching him frantically feel about on the underside of the desk. It must have been a nervous habit.

"Unless you have a gun round there I doubt that you could do me any serious harm you pathetic waste of breath."

"Why would I need a gun?" he replied smugly as the door was thrown open to the side of him. "When I pay people to use them for me?"

"Congratulations you idiot," the Minister for Magic said calmly. "You've just declared war upon the wizarding world."

"Kill him!"

Gun shots fired enthusiastically. As though the bullets themselves had been waiting for all of time just for the opportunity to rid the world of one more wizard. But when the shooting had stopped and the dust from wooden panels the Minister for Magic had been standing in front of had cleared, there was no sign of him to be found. Not even a spec of blood.

* * *

A/N If this doesn't deserve more then the pitiful three reviews I got for the last chapter I don't what does. In case you haven't noticed I work faster when I have readers telling me to get my arse in gear and update, I actually feel like I'm not doing this for nothing then. 

Thank you imensly to American Punk (told you I'd get around that spell), The Black Pearl is Freedom (I can't spell, so sue me) and killing u with umbrellas (and this chapter took me even longer because it really did not want to be writen -) for being the only people to review chapter five.


	7. Anatomy

Chapter Seven: Anatomy

_Nightshade?_ He heard her gentle query in the moments after waking and knew that it was the Alpha Female.

_Yes Alpha?_ The wolf replied groggily, looking out through his hosts bleary eyes.

_Can you please tell Alpha Male that the Winged One and I are on the way back and that we should arrive in around two to three hours?_

_Of course._ Then after a pause Nightshade added something that Alpha Male had told him not repeat to the wolf that was not wolf._ He's been worried about you. _But then, if he didn't push a little he got the feeling that they would never come together to start their own pack. She was silent for a while and he could feel her discomfort, edged with guilt. Then finally she spoke, though her tone was quiet and tired.

_I know. Will you let him know I'm sorry about the way I was acting last night? It's just . . . The way Draco and I are bound-_

_I know. It's pack. Strong pack. And pack always comes first. I'll try and explain to him, but he's never experienced it so it'll be a bit hard._

_Thank you, I really didn't mean to be so harsh last night._

_What are doing?_

Nightshade yelped at the new voice, then a low growl rumbled to the intruder.

_Who are you! _Snarled the wolf.

_Draco. I guess you're Nightshade. Sorry if I interrupted but I was trying to ask Hermione that._

_Who?_

_He means me, _answered the Alpha Female._ And I'm apologising for snapping at Nightshade last night. How are you doing that anyway?_

_No idea. When he formed a connection to you it must have extended to me because of our bonding. Though I had wondered what that weird buzzing feeling in the back of my head was and now I know,_ guessed the new male. Nightshade had to admit, however grudgingly it might have been, it did make sense.

_Do you think Alpha Male would be able to use the link to speak with you as well?_

_Who?_

_Snape,_ replied the Alpha Female. Oh this was getting confusing. Wolves weren't made to follow things like this. _I don't see why he would not be able to. But then again I don't really feel like finding out considering the first thing he'd do with this connection would most likely be to shout at me so much I get a migraine. You should tell him now. I'm going to concentrate on not being sick so I'll be quiet for while._

_What is it with you and flying? _Asked the Winged One, his voice fading away to silence as he spoke.

So he and the Alpha Female controlled their connection? That was interesting. At least he'd be able to stop Alpha Male from shouting at Alpha Female through him. Speaking of which.

_Alpha?_

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This was one of the very few times in his life that Severus had no idea what to do. He simply didn't. Logically he knew that there was little he could do. So he paced, an irritating habit he had managed to pick up against his will from his mentor and false father figure, Lord Voldemort. Thankfully his day would be taken up with Hermione's testing if she still had it in her to take the apprenticeship he knew he would be offering her, then the day after he would offering her a completely different (not to mention exceptionally illegal) apprenticeship. But after that he simply did not know.

Oh he knew that most of his time would be taken up by teaching, supervising and picking out books that would suit her needs as was always the case with the early stages in an apprenticeship. But he knew that he was a valuable . . . tool, for a lack of a better word, to whatever cause he was put to. Yet here was something he could do little about.

With Voldemort he had been a spy, a potions provider, inventor and administrator. As well as an assassin on some rare occasions. With Dumbledore he was all that as well as a teacher and a key element in planning sneak and poison attacks. But to the magical world as a whole he had always been very little. He had invented a clever and helpful potion here and there, but other than that he had never actually been _needed._ What he had done for the Magical community in general could be done by almost anyone prepared to put the time in, with the only exception being the wolfs bane potion.

Would he once again simply be reduced to taking orders that a purely average witch or wizard could follow? Would he be told that the best way he could help would be to simply continue teaching and keeping the infirmaries potion stock up to date?

No! He had been reduced to that before and he would not tolerate it a second time! The safety of a lab or a classroom was maddening when he knew that a war was going on. That people he cared about could be killed while he sat around stirring a cauldron that a particularly dismal fourth year could handle with ease.

He didn't listen to the whisper in the back of his mind that told him he meant Hermione when it came to the people he cared about. He pushed aside the part of him that cruelly reminded him that she would have twice as many muggles after her as the very few other people he gave a rats ass about. Instead he allowed the voice that told him she would be a harder target because she had something to fall back on if one of her abilities was not affective to try and lull him, unsuccessful as it was.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Voldemort was most likely the best way for him to actually be able to make a significant difference to this new war. If he knew the older Dark wizard, and he did, he would abandon his own war in order to strike some rather affective and most likely gruesome blows to that pathetic muggle world. The thought of it was almost enough to send him back to his old mentor and for the first time he regretted Malfoy discovering him as a spy. Especially as he would now have gladly returned to Voldemorts side and told of his treachery that his old teacher had known of for years. The only guilt he would have been able to place for such an act would be the betrayal of certain people, very few people if he was honest. No doubt there would be a flood of new recruits rushing to him now. Eager to show their newly spurned hatred for muggles.

When the knock at the door finally came, Severus could not and refused to hold back the sigh of relief that rushed from between his lips. It had been almost three hours since Nightshade had informed him that Granger and Draco were on their way back, though how they knew where they were on their way back to he had no idea since the dilapidated house was supposedly unplottable as well several other things to discourage being found. Though he knew he should be furious with the damned woman for her blatant refusal to follow a simple order, he had made a rather forced admission that she had been right. Bringing Draco, who from the sound of it had been fairly insane at the time, to come straight to a house full of the family of a woman who had just been killed would not have been a good idea. Not that he intended to tell her that. Quite the opposite actually. He intended to cruelly lecture her as soon as he got the chance.

Forcing himself to walk rather than run as fast as he could, Severus made his way to the front door of the _Nobble_ House of Black and was surprised to find that he was the first one there. When he opened the door however he was nothing short of relieved to find the two haggard young adults leaning against each other. So much so that all thought of a stern lecture disappeared completely from his mind. Instead he irritably raised his eyebrow and stood aside from the doorway.

"Well? Get in!" he snapped, trying not to let his eyes linger on the albino bat like wings that were folded at Draco's back, melting into his skin just below the youths shoulders blades. Hermione didn't even have the grace to at least look chastised. Instead the impertinent little chit had the gall to smirk slightly and chuckle.

"Is there anything to eat?" asked Draco. "I'm starving."

"I'm not surprised. You've only flown around six hundred miles. That's not far at all."

"There will no doubt be something in the kitchen," he replied, ignoring the young woman's' sarcastic remark. "Though I can't guarantee you that it will be properly cooked or palatable."

Had he known the reaction his words would have provoked in the Living Ghost, Severus would have firmly kept his mouth shut. However he had not realised that such a simple sentence would cause her slight smile to slowly fall away and become a frown. Nor had he thought it would cause her eyes to loose the inner light they always seemed to have, and darken into a richer but heart breaking brown.

"Excuse me," she murmured quietly before disentangling herself from Draco and walking away rather slowly in the direction of her room. Draco hissed in pain and grasped at his chest, over where his heart would be.

"Are you alright?" The winged boy nodded, but not very clearly. Seeming to be afraid that the motion would do more to harm him.

"I am, but she isn't, and there's nothing I can do to help her."

"There must be something," he replied without really thinking. Causing Draco to look at him with a raised eyebrow that clearly said _well, there is one thing . . . but you won't like it._

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The lines she drew were harsh. Dark. Foreboding. And somehow brimming with hate. Just like her heart had become. All these years she had struggled to keep herself convinced that she had just been unlucky. That muggles were not as bad as they seemed. That she had simply been ill-fated in coming across the ones that barley deserved to live. Well, no more. She hated them. All of them. They were savage, vulgar and unaccepting.

When she had been younger that had been the opinion she had formed of men, but she had forced herself to overcome that gut instinct to fear and hate them by getting to know men other than her father. She had learnt that that piece of worthless flesh was the exception and not the rule. But now she realised that almost every man who had helped her learn that fact was either a wizard or G.E. almost never a muggle.

It seemed that almost every unnecessary problem had been caused by muggles. Wars, death, destruction. Oh she knew that the magical community had those attributes as well. But she had neither seen nor read about anything as horrific as she had seen first hand in the world she had been unfairly born to. They were even partly responsible for the creation of Lord Voldemort. No doubt he had suffered at their hands during his time in the orphanage he had grown up in. Every large problem the wizarding community faced seemed to have its' roots tangled around muggles. Even the prejudice she faced from the "purebloods" had initially been spurned by her mother culture, by the burning times.

Animals. That was all they were. Frightened animals. But no, even animals had some semblance of sense compared to what those savages, those barbarians were doing now.

There was a firm knock on the door, but she stubbornly ignored it and continued with her drawing. She had no wish to speak with anyone. She didn't not want anyone trying to comfort her when it was not sorrow she felt. It was hate. Pure and undiluted hate. The knock came again, louder and more insistent, yet still she ignored it.

Then she realised something startling.

She could not feel Draco. He was not there. Not anywhere in her mind, in her heart. Nowhere.

The door opened before she could panic. She lethargically turned her head, expecting to see Draco, but was disappointed when she saw the dark form of Snape in her doorway. He looked at her with an unimpressed raised eyebrow and a tray with a plate of sandwiches and a glass of pumpkin juice set upon its surface. Hermione could not even find it in her to see the obviously unusual scene as amusing.

"It's polite to open your door when someone knocks," he stated irritably as her strode into her room, closing the door behind him. Hermione didn't answer and he simply strode towards her and set the tray down on her desk, sending a mildly worried glance at the disturbingly violent scene she had been drawing.

"Where's Draco?" She asked quietly, her voice sounding somehow different to her own ears.

"He's in the kitchen, explaining what he 'saw' as he tries to get something to eat and avoid Arthur's right hook, which I was not fortunate enough to avoid yesterday," he replied amiably as he gingerly touched the bridge of his nose with one finger.

"He hit you?"

"Yes, he seemed to be under the impression that I was twisted enough to lie about the death of his wife." Hermione snapped her head away, glaring at the half finished drawing on her desk as anger flared once again.

"Careful Miss Granger, you're starting to remind me of myself at your age," he warned. "And I assure you, that is not a good thing." He watched her for a moment before speaking again. "I know you're angry at the moment and that you would probably stay angry for quite some time, legitimately so in my opinion. But if you sit and seethe it will only get worse and you will no doubt end up doing something foolish that you will regret." Hermione turned her gaze to her potions professor, only to find an odd sort of compassion in his expression. "Do not make the mistake of travelling down the path that I found myself on. Now hurry up and eat that so I can see if you'll be worth my time as an apprentice."

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He watched her from a chair in the corner of the inadequate lab, out of her way. She was good, he'd give her that much. Her hands worked precisely and she was almost painfully accurate. So far it was all there. Everything that showed she could be a potions Mistress. At least everything that she could show from the brewing of a single potion. She had a good supplier all ready and she was skilled as a practitioner. He knew she could be great, he had seen that in her during her lessons, but none of those potions required this degree of talent.

He tried not to take note of the elegance in her movements. He tried to ignore the grace of her precise hands. But it was impossible. She was entrancing to watch. Even though she was still in her guise of a half Vampire. That did not stop him from noticing the gentle curve of her waist, or the almost hypnotic way her hips swayed when she moved to get something from another part of the lab.

_Are you ever going to admit that you're attracted to her? Or are you planning on staying in denial for the rest of your life?_ It was a very good job that Hermione was listening to her mp3 player as she brewed, had she not been she would have heard the low growl that rumbled from the chest of Severus Snape.

_I am neither attracted to her or in denial! You are delusional._

_Oh please,_ sighed the wolf, pure exasperation running in his voice. _The young Alpha Female is everything you have ever looked for in a mate and more. She's attractive in a subtle way, she's strong willed, intelligent, too unpredictable to become boring. She isn't afraid to stand up to you and she can defiantly take care of herself._

_She also has no difficulty in getting herself hip deep in trouble._

_I thought you weren't interested in her hips,_ snickered Nightshade, leaving the potions master to fume about being beaten at his own game since there wasn't much that he could to say to such a comment. Perhaps this pup actually was some part of him, now it had started to mature and find its feet he was actually starting to remind him of himself. And Severus had a feeling that Nightshade would be 'fully grown' by the full moon.

Thankfully the young woman distracted them both from further argument by starting to quietly hum. It was a soft, melodic and pleasant sound with a simple tune and few drastic note changes. From a purely musical view it was simple beyond belief. Yet despite that it still sounded somehow calming. It was impossible to tell whether or not her singing voice would have the same effect, but the sound was still a soothing balm for his constantly frayed, mending and re-fraying nerves. And it was a sound that made him wonder . . .

Made him wonder what else about the young woman he did not know. What other little tricks and talents did she have? He had seen some of them, but they had all hinted at more beneath the surface. The wandless transfiguration of that gun her mother had nearly killed herself with had shown that there was more power and control in her than in the vast majority of people in the wizarding world, yet she seemed to make a point of hiding it. Her drawings showed that she had a keen eye, steady hand and an open mind for interpreting what she saw and remembered. There was so much to her that was simply hinted at and not fully shown to whoever wished to look. So much so that despite a conscious effort not to, Severus found himself becoming interested in the puzzle that was Hermione Granger.

Then he became impressed, though he would not tell her that.

She stopped just before adding the hawk talon. A second later and it would have been in the cauldron. But she set it down on the work top, next to the jar she had taken it from. With a frown Hermione took her wand from the top of her knee high boot and pointed it at the ingredient.

"Finite incantartum!"

With a flash the sharp talons elongated, coiled together and became a sickly shade of green, finally transforming into something completely different.

"Gillyweed?" she murmured, taking out one of her ear phones before turning to face him as he smiled pleasantly in her direction, raising a glare from her. "That's cheating."

"Hardly, but it does show me that you can recognise transfigured ingredients, which is key to preventing being conned by un-reputable apothecaries."

He leaned back in his chair, a slight smug smirk on his lips as he continued to watch her work. She was the first one he had tested to spot that the talons where not what they seemed. So she was sensitive to magic. Good, she would need to be to follow her instincts.

After another half an hour of diligent work she called him over to proudly announce that she was finished. To be honest he was actually quite interested, it had been years since he had bothered to brew this potion due to the difficulty of getting hold of the phoenix feathers, but his memory was flawless when it came to potions so he would be able to tell if it was properly brewed. Despite his interest he approached at his normal pace, showing no real signs of curiosity.

With a sigh he listened to Hermione's rapidly pounding heart as he peered into her potion. It looked right. The swirling gold, orange and red shimmers looked like liquid fire, exactly as it should and the scent was sweet, but metallic, like blood but with and underlying toffee smell to it. Taking a discrete but deep breath he dipped a finger into swirling brew. It was freezing. Exactly as it should be. And when he removed his finger it was dry, with no trace of the potion left on his skin. Again, just as it should be.

He glanced at her, only to find her dark eyes, once again lit by that inner light, watching him expectantly. It seemed that Draco was right about distracting her. But she was terrified. It was easy enough to see. Her heart was hammering in its cage, he could smell the fear on her and her hands were shaking almost unnoticeably. With a flick of his wand it the potion was bottled and he was reaching for the open book she had been using, his own notebook from his apprenticeship with Voldemort.

"Perfect," Severus told her flippantly, forcing himself to not react to her smile. "Now do it again, but better and without the book. Oh, and follow your instincts. If you think that something should be changed, change it." Her smile fell, replaced by a look of sheer horror. "Oh don't look at me like that. Why do you think I told you to purchase so much of your ingredients?" Hermione's eyes flicked to the workbench and finally noticed that there was indeed over half of everything left. Scowling she turned back to the cauldron.

"Your handwriting was terrible anyway," she muttered darkly as she poured the base of bicorns blood into the shining aluminium cauldron.

It was only strength of will that stopped the potions master from laughing at that moment and he turned away from her to return to his chair on the other side of the room to prevent her from seeing his smirk. Had anyone else said that he would not have found it amusing, in fact he would have firmly rebuked them. But coming from Hermione he simply could not find it in himself to get angry at the irritated comment. Though why he enjoyed riling her was beyond him.

She was humming again before he had even sat down to watch her. A soft melody that drew him in. Made him forget the troubles he had faced. Forget the troubles he would no doubt face in the future. He even felt Nightshade settle down to listen, to watch.

Again her movements were entrancing and more. He could not have looked away even if he wanted to, even if he didn't have the excuse of watching her work. The clan tattoo was still there, he noticed as his gaze lingered at the base of her neck. And for some reason he could not imagine it not being there. It seemed right that she should bear such a mark. He wanted to ask her again if it was real, but at the same time he loathed to disturb her. And still she hummed.

Despite himself Severus found his gaze slowly slipping down her back. Her figure was not exceptional, true it had just the right curves in just the right places, but that tended to happen to a woman when she wasn't obsessed with being stick thin. True the bodice she was wearing flaunted those near perfect curves, yet his eyes moved upwards again. He knew her skin was artificially pale, but that did not alter the fact that her neck and shoulders seemed not only near perfect, but more than divine. The delicate curve where her neck met her shoulder, the soft skin that covered her supple muscles, now shimmering with a layer of perspiration coaxed from her by the heat of the caldron and the fire beneath. He could hear her heart beat, but more than that, he could see the almost invisible tremor it caused, pulsing at her neck. The sight of it was beyond hypnotic, but coupled with the sound it induced a blissful rapture like nothing he had ever felt before. The most bizarre sense of completion, but something else aswe-

He hissed and grabbed his wrist, wrenching his eyes away from Hermione at the sharp pain. And taking away his hand he saw a red mark that looked like an animal bite, from a dog, or a wolf.

_Your thoughts were getting dangerous,_ whimpered the wolf. _Sorry Alpha, but the vampire in you wanted to take her. I could not let that happen._

_I didn't realise that you could actually harm me, but never the less thank you for the distraction._

_Though this does prove one thing._

_Oh, what's that? _Severus asked distractedly, turning his eyes back to Hermione as he traced the raised red bite mark on his wrist.

_You are defiantly attracted to her._

Severus didn't even bother to reply to the wolfs' comment, made in jest. He could not deny it now. Not now that whatever semblance his body had to the thirst had reacted to her just from watching her.

Guilt is an odd emotion, he decided. Because he certainly felt guilty about finding his soon to be apprentice attractive. Though why he should was beyond him. Plenty of men far older than him found seventeen year olds attractive. And she was eighteen in November. He had heard about men as old as sixty marrying girls Hermione's age. Only . . .

Only Hermione wasn't a girl to him anymore. He doubted that she had truly been a girl for quite some time. No, she was most definitely a woman, though whether this was a good thing was yet to be seen.

Her second potion took half an hour longer than the previous by the book potion, yet Severus had been a little too preoccupied to see why that had been so. But when she finally turned to tell him that she was finished he had hastily snapped his eyes from her hips to her face, flawlessly hiding the twinge of guilt he felt. With a sigh he stood and walked over to the potion filled cauldron, doing his best to keep his eyes off the Living Ghost who stood nervously wringing her hands.

His eyebrows rose as he peered in the cauldron at the potion, though he really needn't have bothered. The liquid fire was burning brightly enough to light up the wall behind it and cast flickering shadows to dance around their origin. And the scent of the potion, rather than being stronger, it was by far more subtle; he doubted that most people would have picked up the sweet yet copper tang that drifted through the air. This time instead of dipping his finger into the swirling potion he simply hovered his hand close to the surface and he could easily feel the frost biting into his flesh. The slightest smile twitched at his lips as Hermione watched him with wide fearful eyes. Perhaps he was cruel to do what he was about to do, but that wasn't going to stop him from doing it.

With a heavy sigh he took his wand from his pocket. Oh, he knew that this potion was well above book perfect and she hadn't even used the spare phoenix feather. But knowing it was perfect and torturing Hermione with suspense were two completely different things. So he proceeded to put on quite an impressive show of testing its' potency using several spells that she had most likely never seen before in her life. Just as he had expected, its' affects were more than doubled. Interesting. That would come in handy. It would be a little dangerous, but useful. Her leg was shaking now and her heart was hammering so loud he was sure that she could even hear it. He really should put her out of her misery, but he was having too much fun taunting her. So he continued with his inspection. Not for much longer though as he noticed a slight murderous glint start to take life in her eyes and he guessed she knew what he was doing.

Eventually he pocketed his wand and simply gazed critically into the caldron. Finally she snapped, raising a smirk from the potions Master.

"Professor!"

"Well, for a start you can stop calling me professor and start calling me Severus," then after a slight pause he added "after all, a first name basis is always preferable while during an apprenticeship."

Severus hadn't exactly known what to expect from telling her she had her place as his apprentice, he had remained fairly dignified in the presence of Lord Voldemort, then made an idiot out himself later on by getting absolutely hammered with the band he had been in at the time and trying to coax the lesbian drummer amongst them into sleeping with him. He had known people who had fainted, others who had literally jumped up and down for joy. Hermione did none of those things.

Instead she gave an ecstatic squeal, dived at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing close to him and very nearly knocking both of them to the floor. When he noticed, somewhat disappointedly, that they were still standing, he stiffly placed his arms around her, feeling immensely uncomfortable and having no idea what he was supposed to do. All the while Nightshade howled with laughter within him.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou. Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he replied somewhat anxiously. Yes, Severus Snape, the most intimidating teacher to ever grace Hogwarts was absolutely terrified. All because of an excited seventeen year old who was acting like she was a seven year old for whom Christmas had come early. Finally she pulled back slightly, just enough to face him, a look of pure joy in her eyes and a radiant smile on her lips.

"I could kiss you!"

_What's stopping you?_ He thought, but out loud he said, "Good for you. Now shoe! Go away. Celebrate somewhere that isn't my lab. I'll explain what's expected of you tomorrow. And do try not to have a hangover."

With another squeal she released him and bounded out of the lab, leaving the Werewolf hybrid feeling both utterly bewildered and oddly cold. Wow, that woman was weird. One second ready injure him for making her wait so long and the next saying that she could kiss him.

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Her sword clumsily met his with a loud clang, jarring her arm as she brutally tried to push him back. But he was stronger than her. Odd how her good mood had so utterly vanished at the sight of Ron.

"Your anger won't get you far without the control to go behind it," warned Remus. Then he twirled his sword away, making Hermione stumble forward and soon there was a blade at her throat. Her breathing was harsh. They had been fighting like this for nearly an hour and the Living Ghost was learning quickly. Though it would take a while to get her fit enough to do this properly. Remus was going easy on her and she knew it. In a few weeks perhaps he would turn his true skill to her, but not yet. Not until she had mastered the basics flawlessly.

"Until you've a higher level of skill for your anger to grip at, fight it down. It will only get you into trouble." Then the blade was gone and the werewolf was walking away from her as she regained a little of her breath and turned to face him. There was great sorrow there. He had lost many people in his life and he was doing this now not simply to help Hermione vent her frustrations, but also to distract himself from his grief. Though she got the feeling he would rather be fighting against someone closer to his level of skill with the sword.

Her arms were aching, but she refused to give up. She knew muggles could fight magic, well; let them fight a ghost whose blade still had bite. She doubted that they could do much to something their bullets went straight through.

Her teacher turned back to face her, knowing as well as she did that this as no longer simply a fun way to help her learn control over herself and her powers. This was something that would most likely save her life some day. This was something that she would now use to kill if she were threatened or if it was needed.

"Again," he murmured, and soon they were once again dancing, the sound of their clashing swords as the music.

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He had been scared earlier that day. There was no way he could ever not admit that. He had thought that Hermiones' grief had taken her from him. He had never truly realised what the Weasly matriarch had meant to her. But now he thought about it how could he have not realised. Her own mother was the only other woman she had close contact with on a none learning basis. And if anything Hermione was the mother in that relationship. So really, Mrs Weasly had been the only mother figure his friend had.

The pain that her disappearance from his heart had caused had not simply been physical. The emotion drain it had caused had been immense. As if he could not go on without her. Fear of life without her there had been almost overwhelming. The dread he felt that perhaps this would be permanent. And the fact that it had been unexpected made it even worse. He should have seen it as a return to normality. A return to only having Hermione there when he needed her, or when they wanted to show each other something that had happened. But no. It was wrenching. It felt like part of him had been forcibly ripped out. And over every other feeling of remorse, disgust, fear, distress there was the sheer _wrongness_ of her not being there.

_Draco, are you alright?_ Came the sweet feeling of her mental voice, something he would never again take for granted. _You seemed a little, I don't know. Pensive._

_I'm fine, I was just thinking._

_Care to share love? You had me worried when I couldn't find you for a while._ He could still feel the anger in her, the hate, but it had ebbed away to smouldering embers rather than the cataclysmic blaze it had once been.

_I think strong, really strong emotions can block us away from each other. You . . . you scared me earlier today. When you closed up._ Then he felt her phantom touch. Something she had never done before and had given her twice. The feeling of being held and it brought a smile to his face.

_What are you doing? We still need to celebrate you getting that apprenticeship._

_Well I'm in the bath now so you'll have to wait._ Well, that was one way to catch and keep the attention of any straight man.

_Hermione, are you naked?_

_How else would I be in the bath? No I'm wearing an all concealing cloak,_ she bit back sarcastically. Draco still in his sense of stupor.

_Well it isn't exactly a common occurrence that a naked woman decides to have a conversation with me. It's quite distracting._

_Get your head out of the gutter this instant! Or the next time I see you I'll remove a small piece of you anatomy!_

_Hermione dove, the piece of my anatomy you're talking isn't so small._

_Draco!_

Something told him that despite what was coming, and what they had been through, that they were going to be okay.

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A/N Wow this chapter really did not want to be writen, but once again it had no choice. If you're nice, well manered or simply apriciate that writing takes alot more efort than reviewing does, you'll let me know what you think, good or bad by sending a review.

Speaking of which, thank you to Jennifer Carter, Mimi, killing u with umbrellas, tubbles14 (dare I ask? Cluck?), Horned Halo, sammy2008, Lady Entity, Shadows of Crimson and Lone Angel for being the 8 great people to take the time to review my story.


	8. News Bulletins

Chapter Eight: News Bulletins

_She looked different. Instead of a ghost she was a shadow. Dark instead of light. Her eyes were closed, but he knew they were no longer brown, they were black. Black as coal. And she was older; she still looked to be around eighteen but for some reason the number fifty three kept repeating itself in his mind. And instead of trying to fit into her Vampiric persona it now struggled to keep up with her. Her long, jet black, hair was out of her way in a long braid that reached her knees, with a single defiant curl framing her deceivingly delicate features. A sword at her hip and muggle guns in her hands. Yet one thing had not changed. She was listening to music. An electronic beat pounding in her overly sensitive ears. And always the intoxicating scent of fear._

_But was this a dream? Was it a vision? Or some twisted combination of both?_

_And in a circle all around her, over thirty muggle men, armed with guns, magic shields and batons. Though did the number really matter? They were still terrified of her. They would still all be dead soon. And as always he was hidden away. Watching her. Loving the way she taunted and killed. Oh she was beautiful when she killed._

_Then she began to sing, sing along with the music. An appropriate song for the occasion._

_She raised her own gun to her head, pressing the barrel against her temple._

_"Why should I welcome  
Your domination"_

_She squeezed the trigger. He would have cried out if he could. But on the guns explosion she was still standing, still singing. Yet the armed muggle on her other side was falling to the floor with a bullet through his brain._

_  
"Why should I listen  
To explanations"_

_A roar of gun fire ensued. She dodged most of the bullets, they were harder to ghost then she had thought in her youth. Her flexibility was nothing short of astounding._

_  
"I'm not pretending  
To make it simple"_

_She dropped her now empty guns to the floor, spreading her arms out wide. The remaining fifteen or so muggles didn't dare do anything, they were so terrified. Her reputation had most definatly proceeded her._

_  
"Try to be something  
Experimental"_

_She fell back impossibly slowly, a serene smile on her lips._

_And disappeared through the hard concrete. Sending another wave of terror through the muggles. Gods she was G.E. as well as a vampire and a witch!_

_  
"You don't turn me off  
I will never fail"_

_They couldn't hear the singing anymore, but he could still here the music pulsing through her head, even as she ghosted effortlessly._

_  
"Things I loved before,  
are now for sale"_

_Singing erupted with a scream as she was half out of the ground, a sword now in her grasp and protruding through one of the men's chests._

_  
"Keep yourself away  
Far away from me"_

_She stepped out of the concrete, through the dying man and dashed at a group of the remaining soldiers, taking glee in the last words of that verse._

_  
"I'll Forever stay  
Your perfect enemy"  
_

_Her clothes already specked with blood, the real carnage began, yet she never soured a note, nor sounded breathless in her singing._

_  
"No longer waiting  
Remove illusions"_

_Guns were worse than useless at this close range. They were a liability. As she was easily proving now._

_  
"No more complaining  
Forget confusion"_

_Four heads flew from their shoulders with one swing._

_  
"No more compassion  
Not sentimental"_

_Her sword smashed through the chest of two men, knocking them backwards and ghosting into the ground behind them._

_  
"I am now something  
Experimental"_

_Using her sword, now fixed into the concrete, as a pivot, she flipped over still holding the hilt, and grabbed a man by his neck with her ankles. Savagely breaking his neck with a swift twist that saw her standing on his shoulders for a brief time before leaping to her next kill._

_  
"You don't turn me off  
I will never fail"_

_Clawed fingers and strong hands saw more gouts of blood from various arteries and heard more clean snaps of bones, not always at the neck._

_  
"Things I loved before,  
are now for sale"_

_Only now did he see her lips pull back in a travesty of a smile, exposing four sharp and pearly white fangs that he could tell she was desperate to tear flesh with, yet restrained herself._

_  
"Keep yourself away  
Far away from me"_

_And still that man in the shadows, unneeded after all. Watching her with true adoring in his eyes as she beckoned the last man standing with a simple gesture from the index finger of her left hand. He foolishly but obediently rushed her._

_"I'll Forever stay  
Your perfect enemy"_

_On the last syllable of 'enemy' she smashed through the only remaining muggles throat with the claws of her right hand. Splattering the ground with a mixture of pulped flesh and blood._

_The last of the songs music played into her ears as she straightened in the midst of the gore painted wide alley way, rolling her head until her own neck gave a pleasant crack. Unaffected by the sickening sight around her, she turned her once beautiful amber eyes to the shadows that perfectly hid her admirer and took her ear phones out, letting the music struggle to be heard by those few left alive to hear it._

_It was only then that the other man appeared. And it was only his ethereal form that prevented the onlooker from gasping. The man that stepped from the shadows was tall, had skin as white as bleached bone, carefully oiled into place coal black hair and eyes that burned as hell fire behind a snakes pupil._

_Lord Voldemort._

_And he was wearing a wedding ring._

"_Loose something?" He asked the killer easily. Obviously more comfortable than most could ever even hope to be in her company._

_The Vampire frowned. Voldemort tapped his ring finger. Her eyes darted to her own hand and she swore violently, something he had almost never heard her do before. But before she could panic the man smirked and held out a plain gold ring, small, obviously a woman's wedding ring. Oh Merlin, please no. Any thing but that._

"_You twat," she teased as he approached._

"_You love me really." Words he had never thought to hear from such a man. Words that made the Vampire raise her eyebrow at and reply only half jokingly, as he slipped the ring onto the appropriate finger._

"_Couldn't live without you."_

"Draco!"

He started. Eyes darting around in a half panic, half sleep. He was sat at his desk, papers covered in poetry splayed around him. No doubt there would be ink all over his face. But worse still he couldn't shake away what he had just seen? Dreamt? He couldn't even tell which one it had been.

Still confused he turned his eyes to his bedroom door only to see the last person he wanted to see after what he had just been through.

Hermione, in her usual unassuming muggle clothes. Un-intimidating, sweet, caring, possible future bride for Lord Voldemort. He must have paled at the site of her because she frowned, but she was obviously in a hurry as she didn't mention it. That didn't help get the image of the raven haired, abyss eyed Vampire she might become out of his mind though.

"The Minister for Magic is about to make an announcement on the wireless," she told him nervously. "We should hear it, just to see if he says anything about people like us. Everyone's in the kitchen, come on."

Not bothering to glance in a mirror to check himself for presentablity he rushed after her. Soon they were sat on the table top, the only space they had managed to find in the over crowded kitchen, Hermione with a firm but not uncomfortable grip on his hand. Snape leaning, arms folded, shirt sleeves rolled up in the door way, his brow furrowed as he kept his eyes to the floor, pensive in every way without showing anything that could be seen as weakness. He would have to talk to the potions master about his vision or dream. Whatever it had been. This was the first and hopefully only time he was not able to share it with Hermione, but he felt the man who loved her had a right to know.

Then the broad cast began.

"_Witches and wizards throughout the country. I do not say what I am about to say in order to create panic. Nor do I say it to make you feel unsafe. . ._"

* * *

"I say it because it needs to be said," declared the Minister as he stood on the makeshift podium in Diagon Alley, looking out over the crowd that had gathered to hear his announcement in person. His people. He could not help but feel he had failed them somehow. Even though he knew that was not the case. 

"We have been forced to enter yet another war. A war that is far greater in scale than any other fought in the history of our world." The crowd rippled with fear. That was not his intention, but he accepted that it was unavoidable. "The muggle world has discovered our existence and have crossed a line that they have not dared to even glance towards since the Burning Times." Everyone was silent no, rapt with attention. "They publicly executed one of our people. Not only one of our people, but a good woman. A kind woman known by many. Mrs Molly Weasly, wife to Arthur Weasly and the loving mother of seven children. Not only was she a wife, a mother, a friend to almost any she met in her life time. But a woman who was more understanding and sympathetic towards muggles than most can claim to be. And this is how their government show their appreciation of this wonderful woman!"

* * *

Arthur's fists clenched at the mention of his wife, the ache in his heart clear for all to see. Yet no one moved to comfort him. They stayed silent in their own grief and fear. 

"_It is not my wish to endanger this world, just as it was not my wish for us to be at war with a populace which so vastly outnumbers our own-"_

"_Oh come now, we all know that numbers do not matter in these things," _interrupted a strong male voice. Oddly familiar in a way that was completely unrecognisable. Snapes head snapped towards the wireless in disbelief._ "It is strategy and the willingness to go to extreme and often distasteful lengths that will win us this war which has been forced upon us."_

"That's Voldemort!" he cried out in shock.

* * *

A man strode arrogantly up onto the podium, dressed in elegant and entirely black yet practical clothes. With the lack of robes they could almost be muggle, but not quite. His skin was bone white, his hair black and carefully oiled back in an old fashion that seemed somehow dashing. But it was his eyes that held the Ministers attention. They glimmered the red of blood and the pupils were nothing more that slits. There was no doubting who this man was, even though he only looked to be in his mid thirties. Lord Voldemort now addressed the crowd. This was further enforced by the enormous diamond patterned snake that followed him onto the stage like some travesty of a loyal guard dog. 

He should have been gripped by fear, yet he found himself feeling oddly relieved by the presence of the would be ruler of the wizarding world.

"Minister," he intoned with a polite nod before re-addressing the crowd. "For those of you who do not recognise me, as I do realise my appearance has changed quite dramatically over the last couple of years, I am Lord Voldemort." Rather than another ripple of fear, the crowd appeared to be in awe. Staring up at the murderer as though he were their saviour.

"I have come here with a proposition. As many of you will no doubt know," he carried on with a wry smirk. "I and my followers are not so easily disturbed by the more gory details and dirty jobs that all wars inevitably entail. My offer is to aid you in this war, provided that we are left to our own devices. I could more than double the chances that we can out last the muggles who are no doubt planning their siege of our world, simply by doing what would turn the stomachs of any one else.

"I don't pretend to be noble, nor do I claim to be patriotic. And to do so would be an insult to your intelligence. But what I do offer is that neither my followers nor I will turn our wands to you unless it is to heal the damage done by those I have long said are a bane upon the land. Instead we will raise them your defence! We will strike in your vengeance! And we will not buckle under the boot of the muggle world!" A fierce cheer rang out from the crowd. The Minister had to admit that he was impressed. No wonder this mans followers were so efficient. They admired him; they were drawn in by his charisma, not by fear of his reputation. And he allowed it. He did not interrupt. He allowed this murderer to put forward his proposition. When he had done so, then the Minister would put in his word.

"Blood purity does not matter! In truth, has it ever? I myself, the only living heir of Salazar Slytherin am a half blood!" The Ministers eyes widened at that. Though should they really? It would be an affective way of winning the trust of the crowd, of convincing them that it was magic that mattered and magic alone. "Muggleborns, purebloods, all that's in between. All that matters now is that our world is in danger! Cast aside such differences and stay strong! And above all do not be afraid to stand and fight for your right to live freely!"

"You offer a lot, but what do you ask for in return?" asked the Minister calmly, but not coldly. He was intelligent enough to note that this man was not over exaggerating just what he could do for his people. The Ministry would never attack a military training camp filled with mere children of sixteen. The Ministry would never slaughter a room full of virtually defenceless politicians. But he would, and he would not hesitate to. He was a cold strategist. He didn't see children in a military camp, he saw future soldiers, better to be rid of them before they posed a real threat. And he did not see a group of defenceless men sat at a table. He saw the people who signed the death warrants. Better that they are stopped from putting their signatures on those papers.

A subtle smirk crept onto the other mans lips.

"A full pardon for me and my Death Eaters and, as I said before, being left to our own devises. I assure you our activities will prove to be quite beneficial to you and the rest of your people."

"I thought as much," he replied unimpressed.

"You have to admit that it's worth it for what these people," he gestured to the crowd, "will gain for it."

"Lets put it to the crowd shall we." And with that the Minister took the stage. Already knowing exactly what their response would be.

* * *

"_You all know who this man is, yet his fate is something that I alone cannot decide. So I put it you gathered here. On the one hand he is a murderer. On the other he could be the answer to our survival!"_

Hermione's grip tightened painfully, but soon loosened. Draco couldn't tell why, her emotions where fluxing as much as his own. Potter was staring at the wireless with a bizarre combination of hate and hope. But there was only hope in Snapes. Obviously he was still quite attached to the Dark Lord.

"_Do we send him to Azkaban as a killer!"_ Cried out the Minister.

The crowd roared with angry and enthusiastic no's. Obviously caught in the killers' charisma.

"_Do we give him and those who follow him a full pardon for their crimes? Allow them to carry out what needs to be done, but-"_

This time the crowds roar drowned out the speaking Minister. A roar of approval.

Potters fists started to shake.

"_Then so be it. By the powers of the Minister of Magic, I hereby bestow a full pardon upon the man known as Lord Voldemort and any who bear the Dark Mark!"_

After violently shoving away from the counter he had been leaning against, Potter fought his way out of the room. Shaking with rage and slamming the door behind him.

No one paid him any heed. This was too important to miss because of someone's childish behaviour.

* * *

"What of the G.E?" The Dark Lord asked quietly, so that the crowd could not hear them. 

"What of them?"

"It would be wise to reach out to them. The chances of winning this war would increase if there were more people against the muggles." He made a valid point. But they had only just discovered their existence and knew little about them.

"How would we do that?"

"It isn't just muggles who have evolved gifts; there is a girl who has shown signs of being able to do things that are beyond magic. She would most likely be the best one to contact them." The Minister gave a brief nod and again turned to the crowd.

"But there is another issue to tackle here. We are not the only ones who face a threat from the muggles."

* * *

_Come find us._

A whisper in her mind. So faint she didn't even know if she had imagined it.

"_They too have suffered at the hands of our new enemy. They too have survived by staying secret."_

_Come find us._

Louder this time. She frowned.

"_They are known as the G.E. or Genetically Enhanced. We must reach out to these people if they let themselves be known to us, for we all stand a better chance of survival if we stand together!"_

The front door slammed shut.

_Come find us._

Harry had gone. She couldn't blame him, he hated Voldemort, he had killed his parents and gotten away with it.

_Come find us._

She had heard enough. Enough to know that this world would not shun her. And besides, she needed to go somewhere. Or did she? She couldn't remember needing to go anywhere. . . but there was a drive for action somewhere in her.

_Come find us._

She was looking for something. Something that was hidden somewhere.

No she wasn't! She had an apprenticeship to start.

* * *

She watched the eyes of her lover and bonded fluttered open as her head lay in her lap. The poor woman had worn herself out to reach the Witch that was also one of them. 

"Penny," he whispered gently to catch her attention. Not reaching into her mind yet, she needed time to recuperate. A smile touched Penny's full pink lips as her crystal eyes looked to her.

"Catherine," she sighed in reply, not moving from her lap.

"Did you finally do it?"

_Yes, I did._ Her mental voice was stronger than her physical voice, but still, Catherine did not dare reply in the same manner until her beautiful Penny had regained some of her strength. _The poor girl must have been dragged screaming through hell for her subconscious mental defences to be so strong. I doubt I could have put up a fight like she has for the last year and a half when I knew someone was trying to invade my mind, never mind when I didn't. And I'm an experienced telepath, when she only has a slight feel for empathy._

"When will she come, my heart?"

_Soon, no, earlier than that. I put the strongest longing I could in her. It will take her longer to find us than it will for her to give into the summons. I wonder how she has changed from that sweet little girl I met in the hospital._

"You're sure it was her?"

_She Ghosted through the needle when I tried to take a blood sample from her. She was only seven, but I knew there was something different about her. I could feel the energy in her, an energy I had only encountered in one man when I myself was a little girl. Magic. She pulsated with it, yet she didn't even have a feel for the one she should have been bonded to by then. I've been checking on her since I met her. Even though I couldn't do it very well. The best I could do as get a feel for her health._

"You did well enough. It isn't your fault she became so closed off." Murmured Catherine to reassure her still weak lover.

_I just wish there was someone else we could choose as an ambassador._

"I know you do my love," she swept her fingers across he forehead, a soft golden glow sinking into Penny's skin as she brushed equally as golden hair away from her face. "I know you do." Her eyes drifted closed again, she felt her lover slowly slip into a regenerating slumber.

* * *

_Come find us._

Snape dropped another heavy book into her arms, almost causing her to topple, before scouring the wall book shelf he had commandeered in the Orders safe house. There were seven in the pile already, each one of them looked well over one thousand pages. Just how fast did he think she could read? "Now where is it? I know I brought it with me," he muttered distractedly.

_Come find us._

Oh hurry up. She needed to go. And soon. She really needed to hurry. "Ah, here it is." The book he produced was blessedly thin compared to the rest she held. But it still jarred her when he threw it on the pile that was crushing her bust. Hermione glanced down to the title as she had with all the others. Only for her eyes to widen and her jaw to drop. _The Morality and Mortality of Dark Magic._

Her eyes darted back to the dark man before her. Surely he wasn't serious! What the hell did that have to do with potions!

"Prof- I mean, Severus." That name had been tripping her up all day, and likely would for some time. "There must be some mistake. I mean-"

"Not at all," he answered smoothly, leaning against the shelves. "I thought that since the security that you had put on your portfolio was a quite ingeniously woven piece of the Dark Arts, you might wish to have an apprenticeship in it. After all, it would drastically cut down the chance of you blowing yourself up in an experiment."

Hermione found herself unable to speak. All she could do was gawk at the Master of Potions, Herbology and the Dark Arts. Was he really offering her yet another apprenticeship? A very illegal apprenticeship? Which, truth be told, simply made it all the more appealing. To think she could handle two apprenticeships at once, his opinion of her must be ridiculously high.

"Well? Do you accept?" She wanted to scream YES! at the top of her voice, but for some reason she said something entirely different instead.

"Would I have to do some sort of test to start it?" A smirk slowly crawled onto Snapes lips as a slight chuckle escaped his throat.

"Not at all. Illegal apprenticeships don't follow such rules. All you have to do is accept and I will teach you all that my Master taught me."

_Translation,_ interrupter Nightshade, _you will receive a copy of Lord Voldemorts notes._

"Then I accept."

_Come find us._

* * *

"English officials have given evidence to our government that magic really does exist. As they have proven it is dangerous and those who can use it have been manipulating our world for centuries," he intoned, reading the auto cue. His leg shaking beneath the desk. 

"The people of the UK have fought back against these tyrants, publicly burning a witch who erased part of the memory of a government clerk who saw something that this woman believed he shouldn't of." His wife was a witch. And his three children were all at the Dragon Lance Academy in California, learning to use their own magic.

"It is unclear if this man, who we cannot name for legal reasons, will ever regain his memory." Please let them be safe. Please. They were all under fifteen. Still minors in almost any country or section of the community, magical or muggle.

"What is clear is that these so called witches and wizards are a real threat to our daily lives." No they aren't. Or at least they weren't. But our God damn government is going to force them to become a threat just so they can survive.

"The law which makes witch craft a crime punishable by death, be it by hanging or burning, has officially been reinstated and we are following the United Kingdoms lead in being on high alert." Oh Merlin, they couldn't even leave the country for one that would safe. This was happening everywhere.

"In other news, a terrorist network known as the G.E. or Genetically Enhanced, have also been revealed, once again thanks to officials in the UK." He saw the cameraman swallow hard. He knew the mans son was his youngest daughters friend. He wasn't a wizard, but he could make plants grow fast enough to watch. He had even brought a bunch of dead flowers in a vase in their kitchen back to life instantaneously jus by waving his hand over them.

"These people can do extraordinary things. There have been reports of G.E. who can manipulate fire, sprout wings, walk through walls and even invade the mind of any person with little effort. Implanting suggestions that you would have no choice but to follow." But that didn't mean they would use their talents to destroy people lives.

"The video evidence of this was captured both in London and a small town in England. The first actually shows a group of three people, one who is possibly a wizard and not a G.E. in Piccadilly Circus." As a mob threatens to close in on them so they had no choice but to flee.

* * *

She drew her knees to her chest as she watched the News bulletin. Oh god, her eleven year old daughter had just started a magic school in Ohio. 

The picture on the screen showed a trembling, pale teenaged boy who couldn't have been more than eighteen. He looked utterly normal apart from the glow that surrounded his back. There was a girl of about the same age, tall, slender and dressed in black. Just your average Goth. Except for the fact that she was starting to turn a translucent blue as an angry crowd gathered round them. She said something to the man, casually but smartly dressed. Beautiful bronze wings exploded from the boys back. He dashed forward and grabbed the girl. Then took to the air and flew out of the camera shot.

The man who was with them had crouched to what looked like a battle stance, a stick I his hand. A stick, she knew from buying one with her daughter, which was a wand. As the crowd teetered on the edge of becoming a mob, he straightened twirling his wand the sharply disappeared, leaving no trace of him behind.

"Apperating," she murmured. That was how the teachers from her daughters' new school had left her house.

"The next clip has scenes of violence and sensitive viewers may wish to turn away."

Two teenagers, sixteen at the absolute most, surrounded by armed police. All pointing guns at them. Disgusted, she turned the television off. If a war was coming, she knew exactly who she would be siding with.

* * *

Closing her book, Hermione got to her feet. "I have to go." 

"Go where?" Snape asked, clearly sounding surprised. She had only been reading for an hour and the dive to go somewhere, to find something, had become overwhelming.

"To find . . . I don't know. I just have to go." Snape narrowed his eyes at her. She felt something rummaging about in her mind. Nightshade most likely.

"I thought so-"

The door burst open leaving Draco in the frame. "Ghost, where are we going?" It seemed she wasn't the only one who had the drive. Before she could answer Snape spoke.

"It's called a mental imprint. And one has been put on you by a very powerful telepath. But not one like I've ever seen before. This isn't from a normal telepath."

"How do I get rid of it? It's driving me crazy!"

"Give into it," he answered simply. "That's the only way."

_Come find us._

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Hermione stared at the Potions Master. She _really_ had to go somewhere.

"My guess is that it was one of your own kind that put it there for some reason."

"My own kind?" she snapped. Angry at the remark for some reason.

"You know what I mean. And you also know I mean no offence by it." Still she glared at him. Another G.E. had put this longing in her? Why? Actually, it did make sense now she thought about it. She would be a perfect ambassador. She was after all, from all three worlds but the most unlikely to go back to the muggles. It looked like they were simply calling her to duty.

Turning to Draco she said, "I hope you've eaten, you'll need your energy. We're going to the G.E. And we have to fly there." His only response was to shrug.

"They'll feed us when we get there. I wonder if Claire is there."

"Claire? Actually, no. If it involves you and a female, I don't want to know."

_Come find us._

"You've been to them before?"

"She hasn't, I have. But only once. I can still remember where we need to go though."

"Good," replied Snape. "Because I'm coming with you."

"You'll need a fast broom," replied the Living Ghost dryly, doubtful that there were many that could keep up with Draco when he took to the wing.

"Not a problem. I'll put Potter's to good use." Draco smirked at the proposition as Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"You mean you'll steal it?"

"I prefer the term, borrow without permission. Besides he isn't here to argue."

"He won't be impressed if you don't return it in pristine condition."

"I dare say that this is more important than a expensive flying twig."

* * *

**A/N** Wow the response for Chapter Seven: Anatomy was brilliant. I defiantly didn't expect that. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. In fact, here's a list of you very brilliant people. 

So thank you to Jennifer Carter, Lady Entity, tubbles14 (wow yours was an incredibly long and amusing review), Lone Angel, killing u with umbrellas, sammy2008, houquilter, mlewis, Bubbles, -Broken Black Rose-, PheonixFlight, Jenny Bloom and mekareami for being the thirteen people to review the last chapter.

This chapter is bit weird compared to the others, so I would doubly appreciate you telling me what you think. So, I've been nice enough to write it. Will you please be nice enough to review it.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: The Saldren

_I think I'm going to throw up._

"Again?!" cried Draco at Hermione's mental exclamation, beating his albino bats wings to speed them along through the sky.

"Let me guess," came Snape's yelled voice. "She's about to vomit? How much does that girl have in her stomach?"

"You'd be surprised," he shouted back. Then too Hermione he added, _I told you not to eat anything before we left._

_I didn't! I don't know where it's all coming from! But I wish it would stop. This happens every time you aren't in a mad dash when we fly._

_Oh that's right, blame me,_ he replied drably. It was a good job he was used to her being like this. _I would do the whole mad dash thing, but we need to let Snape keep pace with us. There's only so fast a Firebolt will go and to me that isn't fast enough._

_Are we nearly there? The pull is getting a hell of a lot stronger._

_Only a few more minutes. I hope you can hold the contents of your stomach where it belongs._

_Ask Snape if he can go any faster._

"Recon you can get any more speed out of that thing?!" There was a pause, the odd buzzing feeling that flitted about in the back of his awareness when Nightshade was talking to Hermione and then the young woman gave the answer to his question.

_Nightshade says that he probably could and that Alph- Snape will give it a try._

With a brief nod to the young woman in his arms, Draco beat his wings with more power, driving him fiercely through the air. He did not look to see if Snape was keeping up. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the sky, the clouds he darted through and that bizarre feeling that he knew was coming from Hermione. The feeling that they needed to be somewhere. Somewhere that was not where they were now. He felt the queasy twist in her stomach ease. And she felt the thrill uncoil in his heart and slowly start to creep through his veins. When did she end? Where did he begin? They could not tell any more. Had there ever been boundaries? His heart was her heart and her heart was his. Could they really be two separate people?

Never! They were one. And they were strong. But there was something thing in the way of some of that strength. They soared and they swooped. All elegance. All each other. Eyes of metallic amber. Clouds blurring past. It reminded them of an anime they had seen, a poem they had written, a picture they had drawn, a book they had read. They were getting close. They were nearly there now.

* * *

If he had a physical form, he would have frowned. Even a hunting pack did not merge to the extent that the Alpha Female and the Winged One were doing now. They had let themselves get so close that there was no difference between them, even he could not tell them apart with his odd bond to Alpha Female. Was it safe for them to become one mind like that, he wondered, thinking back to a time he could not remember, a time when he and the Alpha Male had been of one mind. He couldn't imagine it, nor did he particularly want to go back to being like that. Besides, from what he had seen and heard, Alpha Male had a much better temperament now than he did before the separation.

But still, just partially touching that one solid being that had two bodies made him yearn for something, but he wasn't sure what it was. It was like sniffing the faintest hint of a scent and wanting its source even though he was unsure of what that source could be.

_Why are you whimpering? _Came the concerned voice of Alpha Male. _Is it the flying? _He hadn't even realised he had been whimpering

_It's not the flying, I wasn't even paying attention to that._

_Then what is it? There must be something wrong. I know you well enough to know that you don't whimper for no reason. _The wolf paused. Why had he been whimpering. Alpha was right in assuming there must be a reason, he just couldn't describe it. So instead he decided to ask about something else that had been preying on his mind.

_Do you think I will ever get to touch anything?_ He could feel the shock ripple through his host. Apparently Alpha had not even thought something like that would bother him.

_At the full m-_

_Not then. If what you have said about that is true, then all I will feel is the pain of tearing into my own borrowed flesh. I mean properly touch something, like you do. Really sniff the air instead of sharing with you. Do you think I could ever do that? _There was another uneasy pause. Alpha was probably jealously protective of his body and would be reluctant to turn it over to a subordinate wolf, even for a moment. Nightshade couldn't blame him. It was Alpha's territory after all.

_I'm not sure,_ he finally answered. _It might be possible, but I honestly don't know. Do you want me to start some research into the matter when I have the time? _The wolf gave a heavy sigh. Alpha had just taken on an apprentice; he would never have the time.

_No. I was just wondering. _And with that, the wolf pulled away from the vampire, feeling oddly cold and longing for that elusive something even more with every wraithish step he took. Now he knew he was whimpering, but he ignored his own noise and curled up intent on going to sleep.

* * *

Powering Potters broom through the cold air and only just managing to keep up with the pair he followed, Severus frowned with worry at the wolf's antics. Nightshade had never been moody, nor depressed. And while the thought of letting the wolf loose with his body was quite a terrifying notion, Nightshade was half of himself, so really, what damage would he do? Did he not have some sort of right to share their body? As uncomfortable as the thought made him feel, he was fully prepared to look into the possibility. But something told him that was simply the tip of the ice burg. Something else was bothering the wolf and Severus didn't know how he felt about Nightshades reluctance to tell him.

Did he not trust him? Did he not realise that Severus would gladly help the cub with anything? What was a pack for if it didn't support its members? And that was what he felt like he was becoming with some people. A pack. Nightshade was an obvious member, but Nightshade was different to the other people it might include, namely Draco and Hermione. Nightshade was something closer. While the wolf had been somewhat annoying at first, as well as a constant reminder that he had become the very thing he hated, he couldn't bear the thought of anything harming him. And though he hated to admit it, he now understood what Draco had felt when he and Hermione had become completely separate. Only this separation had been the choice of one of them.

The wolf had his back to him. Merlin he felt cold. And there was a dull ach in his chest, clenching and painful. But what could he do? Nightshade wanted to be completely alone. He couldn't just intrude on that.

Lonely. That was how he felt. Utterly and contemptuously lonely. Made all the more painful by the sight of the obviously entwined pair ahead. They were probably closer to being one person that being two at the moment. And Severus wanted that. He wanted Nightshade to have his own body but to still share a place in his mind. He wanted to be able to run his fingers through thick wolfish fur, to have a friend as close to him as Draco was to Hermione. Someone to hold, to joke with, to spend time with. But he knew that what he wanted was not what Draco and Hermione had. He wanted a strong wolf at his side and there was something fundamentally different about that, even though the wolf would be as intelligent as any human. There was some basic but profound difference in the type of companionship.

Without even realising that he was doing it, he reached for Nightshade. But in a different way to the way he normally reached for the wolf. It felt like he was kneeling by the sleeping hound. Inside his mind, he lay his clawed hand on the wolf's head and gently petted him, feeling warmth spread from ethereal fur. Nightshade shivered at the touch, but soon settled down in deep sleep.

* * *

Reluctantly, Hermione and Draco separated as winged boy carefully landed. Hermione sighed in irritation. The pull to go somewhere was overwhelming. Around two meters away, a miserable looking Snape landed on the mountain platform. "Well?" she asked impatiently. "Where's the entrance?"

"Give me a chance will you. The last time I was here, I was seven."

"Where are we by the way?" queried the sullen potions master as Hermione started to shift from foot to foot in agitation and restlessness. Gods this was getting annoying.

"Somewhere in the Pennines, not sure what this part is called though," Draco replied as he looked around with a frown, most likely attempting to remember where the entrance was.

"Draco . . . " she whined uncharacteristically.

"I know, it's annoying. Live with it. I know it's around here somewhere. . ."

Light sliced down in a perfectly straight seam though the rock. "Never mind. It looks like they know we're here." The thin shaft of light widened steadily, letting a rush of oddly perfumed air escape the mountain. The feeling of needing to find somewhere slowly began to sink away as she watched. The light stopped expanding. A silhouette appeared, human in shape, and began to grow larger as it walked towards them. Then the light faded a less blinding level, more like the sunlight they stood in.

The silhouette was replaced with a tall, domineering but friendly looking woman, with rich black hair, cinnamon skin and dark eyes. Over all she looked rather Spanish. Yet her clothes, the little of them there was, were quite bizarre. She wore a vibrant blue bodice, tightly laced and obviously very well boned. The skirt she wore was lively green that easily matched well with her bodice, it looked like silk and reached to her ankles, but there was a slit on either side the came to a stop just as her hips threatened to begin. Her feet were clad in sandals and her thick hair was in a loose braid. Her appearance was elegantly whorish, Hermione decided she liked this woman almost instantly. Oh, and there was a sword strapped to her waist as well.

"Welcome," her voice was as rich as her appearance, but its accent was entirely English. "My name is Catherine, I'm glad you came so quickly Hermione. But who are these men you have with you?"

"Oh," Hermione replied, somewhat startled by the fact hat this woman knew her name. "This is Draco Malfoy an-"

"Your bonded?" she interrupted, some how sounding polite as she did so.

"Erm . . ."

_Tell her yes. It's not difficult Ghost._

"Yes," she stammered. Then hastily gestured to the other member of their party. "And this is Professor Severus Snape." He gave a polite nod, but said nothing. Instead he simply looked over the scene with a distracted expression.

"Draco accompanying you I understand, but why bring the other with you? Are you lovers?"

"NO!" both Snape and Hermione cried out, startled someone would even think that. Neither of them saw Draco role his eyes rather dramatically.

"No Miss Catherine, I assure you we are not," Snape expanded, now brought back to the real world. "She is my apprentice."

"Oh yes, I remember my father telling me that the relationship between Master and apprentice was quite odd on the Wizarding world."

"It'll take at least another two days before it gets to that stage," Draco cut in smoothly. The stranger smiled, the other two glared at him.

"Where are my manners," she suddenly said, sounding rather flustered. "Do come in, I'll show you to your rooms and let you get settled in, then I'll explain why my lover called you here."

"You lover?" Hermione asked curiously. "What's his name?" Catherine chuckled quietly before giving her reply.

"Penny. And I'm the closest thing to a man our relationship entails or needs. Though I assure you, I'm _all_ woman." Embarrassment flooded Hermione and she felt her cheeks over heat as she scrambled to ask for forgiveness, while Snape and Draco sniggered. "No need to apologise. It's a natural assumption. Most women prefer men, though to be perfectly honest I never have seen the appeal."

_You are adorable when you blush._

_Oh shut it, ferret face._

_Now now, that isn't nice sweetheart. _It took all the effort she could muster, not to cringe at being called that by Draco.

"What do you call this place?" she asked, ever hungry for knowledge, as they followed Catherine into the mountain.

"Home," she replied easily as they when they reached a fenced off precipice that overlooked the rest of the interior. The sight was breath taking. It was like an underground village in it's feeling, with small stone carved building acting as houses and larger ones for communal centres. There was a field with children playing, but the grass was silver. People milled about below, going about their everyday business. "We've yet to find the need to call this place by anything more elaborate or less true."

"Do all the G.E. live here?"

"G.E.? I take it neither you or your bonded have spoken to any of your own kind before," she said in a voice that held an abominable amount of sympathy.

"He has, I haven't." Was Hermione's easy reply. Catherine gave a nod before speaking again.

"We don't call ourselves the G.E." She explained. "That is a label given to us by geneticists who think of us as something new. In truth we are simply another part of humanity, like wizards and muggles. Wizards have their magic, muggles have their urge to create, to invent, we have our gifts and closeness to the earth."

They followed her to some sort of communal building that was oddly reminiscent of a hotel, yet at the same time seemed to be the hub of the community.

"This is the building we use for our equivalent of parliament," explained Catherine before any of them could ask. "My lover is our current Voice and I am her body guard and the General of our demur army. As her guest you are all welcome to stay here, though I do suggest not drinking the tap water, people with magic in them can't usually handle it since it flows through so many Lay Lines on its way here. And Hermione,"

"Yes?"

"You'll be training with me for two hours tonight and four hours tomorrow with a sword. We can't have our ambassador dieing on us. I've heard you're a fast learner."

"I am. I've also already had a couple of lessons in sword fighting." A smile gripped the generals' face at her words, a smile that made Hermione feel utterly uncomfortable.

"Not the way I teach you haven't. Teaching is part of my gift dear; you'll be an adept swordswoman by the time you leave your second lesson with me. Now, I'll show you to your rooms where you can change into the clothes that have been left out for you, then I'll send someone to collect you for dinner. Penny can explain the situation while we eat. She's the Voice of the people so she'll be able to explain far better than me; I'm just the Sword Arm."

The corridors of the building where odd to say the least, they had obviously been tunnelled, but the walls were perfectly smooth with no tool marks to be found as they wound this way and that. They also had a bizarrely glassy texture. And the doors weren't doors per say, they were more like holes in the wall with roots growing from the makeshift frame, twining together to give privacy. Only Draco and their guide were unfazed by the amazing architecture.

"How was this place built?" Snape asked, finally seeming to snap out of his dour mood.

"It was carved into the rock and smoothed over with intense fire, hence the glassy walls. And the doors are formed by plants that grow in the rock. It's a symbiotic arrangement. They give the people who live here oxygen and privacy, two things humans can't really live without, and the plants feed off the warmth and carbon dioxide that everyone produces." The party came to an abrupt halt in the corridor, all eyes turning to Draco wondering the same thing. How the hell had he known that? "I've been here before remember? True I was only about seven but I remember the parts I found interesting and the formation of these buildings was one of those things."

"Most of the people who live here don't know the workings of the buildings and cycles," replied Catherine. "It's surprising that you have remembered one of our most obscure facts when you have only visited here once in your boyhood. I'm impressed. It looks like your bonded isn't the only one with a quick mind."

"True, but she has hers trained to remember everything. Mine usually just remembers things that are pointless, scary or interesting. Which," he added, turning to Severus with a slight smirk. "Now I think about it, probably explains why my potions mark is so good. You're terrifying in the class room."

"I'm not that bad!" He cried in protest. Hermione made a point to look aside and whistle innocently. "I'm not! Am I?"

"You are, and don't even pretend you don't do it on purpose."

"I'm not saying I don't act intimidating, but terrifying? That has to be an exaggeration."

"Shall we move on?" Hermione hastily asked before a full scale argument broke out.

Their rooms where a comfortable size, with large beds a desk and glossy black floors. Severus was first to be dropped off, then Draco was next door to him and finally Hermione was shown to her room opposite Draco's. Catherine left her to change into the clothes provided, which the living ghost soon realised to be a mistake when she saw what the clothes were. A bodice, bugger. She would have to enlist Draco again. Or worst yet, Snape. There was one of those skirts that Catherine had been wearing as well. The colouring was quite different to Catherine's though. The bodice that had been provided was a dark purple with black embroidery, and her skirt was a shimmery black. She seemed to be ending up in black a lot more often lately. Perhaps they had given her what could only be described as gothic clothes because they had seen her looking like a Goth on the news. They had even left black sandals for her.

With a sigh, Hermione quickly donned the skirt type thing and sandals before taking her top off and starting her battle with the bodice, only to discover it was a well boned corset and therefore twice as difficult to put on. When she had eventually managed to get to the stage were all that needed to be done was to tighten and tie the bloody garment, she decided to call in reinforcements.

_Draco,_ she purred into his mind. _Can you pleeeease come and tighten my corset for me?_

_Why can't you do it yourself?_

_Because my cleavage always ends up wonky and my waist goes uneven._

_Get Snape to do it, I'm sure he won't mind._

_Draco!_

_I'm serious Ghost, he really fancies you, he's just too proud to admit it to any one. And don't even consider saying you don't find him attractive because I know you do. Your hormones keep inflicting themselves on me. Now get him to adjust your cleavage, I'm busy._

_Already? What's her name?_

_How did you know I was with a woman? _He asked, startled and amused at the same time.

_You mentioned one before we set off and you're passing up the chance to adjust cleavage. So you've obviously got a more available cleavage in front of you._

_Her name's Claire and she's married with three children. Her cleavage is no where near as available as yours and yours may as well have a 'touch and you die' sign on it. She's the one that taught me to fly. I owe her a lot. Now if you don't mind?_

_Fine, I'll ask Snape, but I'm blaming you if he gets weird around me. _With a sigh, she reached out to do just that, noting before she sent a message to him that something felt, well, a little off.

_Nightshade?_

_He's asleep, I'm not sure, but I think that's why I can hear you, _came a velveteen baritone reply that, for some reason, made her weak at the knees. _I'm guessing you're Hermione since you're the only one apart from me that he talks to._

_Yep, it's me. It was actually you I wanted to ask something any way, but it's a bit embarrassing._

_Well, out with it. _She was oddly reassured by his mildly annoyed tone.

_I need some help properly tying the corset I've been given and Draco's talking to the woman who taught him to fly._ _Could you please lend a hand? _She received a stunned silence in return. She could hardly blame him; the request couldn't exactly be seen as normal. _Severus?_

_Can't you do it yourself?_

_Do I need to describe just how ridiculous wonky cleavage looks? Because that's the result I get if I do it myself._

_Fine, _he sighed in exasperation. _I'll be there in a minute; your room is the one opposite mine isn't it?_

_Yep, that's the one._

True to his word, almost exactly one minute later Snape appeared through the parting of roots. Oddly enough the clothes he had been given where almost exactly the same as his usual clothes, except they looked a bit, well, more rock star. Yet she could put her finger on why that was, especially since he was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a waist coat. Another thing she couldn't put her finger on was why she looked away for him, blushing. "Well, what do I have to do?" He asked tersely. Almost gratefully, Hermione turned her back to him.

"Do you see the ribbon?"

"Yes."

"Grab it and pull. I'll tell you when you stop." When she felt a slight tug on her back, letting her know he had taken up the ribbon, she became uncomfortable aware of just how close to her he was. She could feel his warm breath on her exposed shoulder blades as he sighed, moving her hair slightly, but just enough for it to tickle.

"Ready?" He asked his tone nonchalant.

"Yep, I'm ready."

* * *

Against his better judgement, he yanked harshly on the ribbons. "Bloody hell!" she cried. How interesting, she usually only swore if she was talking to Draco or trying to shock him.

"That's enough I take it?"

"Yeh, I'd say so. Now will you tie it for me?" Rolling his eyes he complied. Then he noticed something. Frowning he placed the tip of one his fingers on her back, causing the Living Ghost to tense very noticeably. Slowly, his finger began to follow the intricate pattern.

"I'm sure you told me that this very real clan tattoo of yours wasn't real." She tensed further. "Come on Hermione," he purred. "Out with it." Why was he acting like this? He wasn't usually so, he didn't even know the word for it.

"Prof-"

"Severus," he interrupted, still tracing her tattoo, entranced by the curve of her neck.

"Severus," was her obedient reply. "I'm not sure what you're asking." Her voice was trembling slightly and it was only then he realised that his behaviour might scaring her. She had to deal with her father pawing over her before and he doubted she had gotten over that. Any form of male contact that didn't come from Draco could be a daunting experience for her. Abruptly he removed his finger from its slow journey and gave her bare shoulder a friendly pat.

"Your Clan tattoo Hermione," he said with smile as she turned to face him, biting her lip. "Why do you have it and how did you get it?"

"Ah," her cheeks darkened in embarrassment. "I saved Arra's life. She was about to be killed by a vampire hunter and I sent the guy crashing into a tree. Her brother is the Clan Chief, he gave me the tattoo as a thank you for-" Her eyes widened as they stared at him. Or more precisely, as they stared at his mouth.

"What?" He asked, successfully keeping the edge of worry he was beginning to feel out of his voice. Her reply was simple, one word.

"Fangs."

* * *

The last time he had seen someone with a wand, he had ended up in a full body bind. Thankfully it was one of the spells they had the technology to counteract. But given that piece of information, as well as the fact that it had only been two days since that had happened and you had the reason he was exceptionally nervous at the moment.

With a flash of green light the last of his armed men fell to the floor at the hands of the young, raven haired man. Calmly the tall attacker readjusted his round framed glasses, twirling his wand around with the fingers of his right hand in a way that suggested he was trying not to be threatening. It was a good job he had gathered that unit in his office to kill them anyway or he might have been seriously pissed off. Glasses now adjusted, the young man turned to him, looking directly at his face with emerald green eyes. It was only then he noticed the lightning bolt shaped scar. So this was the famous Harry Potter that some of those freaks had said would be their saviour. How interesting.

"I'd apologise for the mess, but they attacked first," he said with absolutely no remorse in his voice. Another interesting fact since this was most likely the first time he had killed. He couldn't be more than eighteen at the absolute most. But he as good at reading people and everything about this young man screamed that he had been through a hell of a lot for someone his age. "This wasn't exactly how I wanted to start out with you."

"How did you find this place?" A small smile touched his lips as he replied.

"You can find anything if you ask the right questions," he paused, his smile twisting unpleasantly. "In the right way." He had no doubt that by the 'right way' this young man meant torture.

"And why are you here Mister Potter?" At that he rolled his eyes.

"Great, I can't even escape being recognised here. Since you know who I am I guess I'll skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point. Have you heard of a wizard who calls himself Lord Voldemort?" At this he found his eyebrow raising.

"Yes, but our information on him is sketchy at best." Potter smiled at that and began to wonder around his office.

"Well, he's the one who'll pose the greatest threat to you. He's a psychopath, a very powerful psychopath who has a fiercely loyal group of followers, all of them powerful in their own way and all them very capable of killing hundreds of muggles at a time. Some of them don't even think of muggles as being human. In short, Voldemort is as close to untouchable and immortal as any man can ever be."

"Well, thank you for the information, but you still haven't given me a reason not to call up a squadron of competent soldiers to kill you."

"That's because I haven't finished," he replied patiently.

"Then please, continue."

"You didn't have much of a cause to worry about him until yesterday. Before then if he had done anything public the Wizarding worlds version of police would have shown up as quickly as possible and his Death Eaters would have been too busy fighting the people who were actually a threat to bother with muggles." His fists clenched and unclenched as he forced himself to be calm, it was a fairly impressive display. "But yesterday he interrupted the Minister for Magic when he was addressing a large portion of the community. And was cleared of all his crimes." Murder lit Potters green eyes. "Now he and his followers can move freely and he'll no doubt use that to kill as many muggles as he can."

The young man turned his eyes back to him, and he was certainly surprised at what he saw. He was full of fury. While he had been killing those waste of space soldiers his expression had been eerily calm, serene almost. But now, now he looked like a killer should look. And that was what he was, he saw now. This young man was a cold blooded killer. That could be useful. "That bastard killed my parents and tried to kill me. Now as far as I'm concerned every witch and wizard in this country had a hand in their death and I want them to pay almost as much as I want Voldemorts head!" He found himself smiling at the intruder. He would most defiantly be useful. "You most likely don't know a lot about prophesies, but they always come true. And there is prophesy concerning myself and that murdering arse hole. Acording to that, I'm the only one with a chance of killing him. _Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. _I know exactly how useful I will be to you. I'm powerful in terms of magic. Everyone has unfaltering trust in me. And I've just discovered I don't really have a conscience, so I'll be able to kill for you. I want revenge and to have the best chance at getting that I need to be working for you. So, do you have a position for me?"

He stood up behind his desk, the youth approached. "You'll start on fifty thousand pounds a year with plenty of opportunity for a raise." He held out his hand to the young man. The tiniest glimmer of second thought flashed in Potter's eyes before being crushed ruthlessly.

"I'll have to get you an owl so you can contact me."

He grasped the hand offered to him and firmly shook it.

* * *

A/N Sorry for the wait, exams and coursework kept getting in the way. Please review, I'd love to know what you think.

Thank you to Jennifer Carter, Elia Black-cat, Lady Entity, Erin, killing u with umbrellas, ccrawley10, Rageful Jewel, AngelMusic, Anon, jenny b, PheonixFlight, xXFlippyXx, a shadow's tear, Megan Consoer, River and professor.bat for reviewing my fic. I really appriciate it.


	10. Striking Back

Chapter Ten: Striking Back

Hesitantly, Severus found himself reaching up to his mouth. Fangs? Actual noticeable fangs? It couldn't be! Fair enough he had teeth that gave the slight hint of fangs, but not the actual full elongated canines. His finger tip knocked into his tooth then travelled down. And down. And down to the very pointed tip. He knew he must look like an idiot standing there with his finger tip on his tooth, but he honestly didn't know what else to do. Thousands of thoughts tumbled through his mind. Too many for him to sort though.

"Severus?" His eyes widened and he span away from Hermione. He didn't want her to see him like that for some reason. She had already seen, he wouldn't have even known if she hadn't pointed them out but that didn't mean he wanted her seeing him look like an animal. And Nightshade wasn't around to bite him back into line. His finger was no longer resting on his elongated fang. Instead his hand was covering his mouth, forcing him to breathe through his nose.

The earthy scent of wood shavings laced itself into his awareness. Wood shavings, parchment, oil paint and lavender. Cleanly female and somehow other worldly. "Severus," her voice had a hint of worry to it. But it was a soft almost lilting tone that slowly sank into his consciousness. Not the word. A voice as alluring as her appearance. "Are you okay?" He felt her hand lay on his shoulder. A warm, comforting, _tempting _weight. A mental image of her bared neck and shoulders flashed across his mind. He tensed. He felt his teeth scraping together, a sign that his fangs were elongating even further. He didn't try to talk. Irrational as it was he was sure his words would come out as some hideous hiss. He could hear her heart beat. Strong and rhythmic. Her blood would be moving fast and smoothly through her body if her heart beat was anything to go by. His bottom jaw began to ache.

She pulled him around to face her. Concern in her hazel eyes. His gaze slipped down to her pale, supple neck, resting on the divine meet between shoulder and neck. "I've already seen," she said quietly, talking hold of his wrist. She hadn't seen, not all of it, but that tiny little flicker on her throat that showed her pulse to the world was steadily convincing him that he didn't care. "It doesn't bother me." He let her gently pull his hand away, but kept his mouth closed. "It just shocked me a little." Didn't she realise just how she affected him? Affected the Vampire in him?

Then her eyes were caught by his. A slight flicker of cold shivered through his eyeballs for less than a second. Her shoulders slumped, her expression faded to near emptiness. Good. Eyes fixed on the scarred over mark given to her by another of his kind, he slipped his arm around her corseted waist and pulled her against him. The other Vampire had been a fool to let her go. He wouldn't make that mistake. Wanting to feel her skin on more than his lips when he tasted her life, his free hand reached up to her neck. Rather than resist, she leaned into the touch. She was his. Savouring the moment, he leaned towards her neck, mouth open and fangs bared. Ready to replace the others mark with one of his own. His hand slid over her warm flesh to the back of her neck. She moaned quietly.

Teeth resting on her skin he was suddenly himself again. Horror widened his eyes and froze him in place. Had he really just been about to _bite _Hermione? Taking a deep breath, Severus took his teeth from her neck, leaving it thankfully unmarked. Closing his mouth he leaned forward slightly to see where his hand had ended up. His finger tips were resting on her Clan tattoo. So that was what had restored him to his senses. It had done nothing for Hermione though. She still stood, unresisting and subtly leaning into him. What did that mean? he wondered.

With a deep breath, he quickly snatched his hands away and leapt back. Almost afraid that he would once again try for her throat with the influence of the Vampire magic gone. He didn't, and the urge to do so remained blessedly stifled. Now to how he was meant to rouse Hermione. What ever he had done to her had been done either by accident or by pure instinct. Now with that instinct gone he had no idea how to proceed. Warmth fluttered in his eyes for a heart beat.

She blinked and swayed. Shaking her head slightly and frowning. Had he done that? Or had she come to her senses on her own? Either way she looked confused. And how the hell was he going to explain what just happened? Making a hasty decision to stay silent until she brought it up, he turned his head away slightly, his mouth firmly closed.

"I feel a bit dizzy," she murmured, almost to herself as she steadied on her feet.

"Are you alright?" She frowned at the question, as if looking for some reason that she shouldn't be. Did she not remember?

"Erm, yeah," she finally replied, hesitance in her voice. "Yeah, I guess it's from hunger. Probably a result of the amount I threw up on the way here." Despite the firmness of her words, Hermione didn't quite sound convinced. Severus however was very convinced of something. She couldn't remember what he had almost done to her.

They were saved from any further awkwardness by the parting of roots in the doorway, leaving the tanned Catherine in their wake. "Time for dinner," she intoned brightly with a smile. Draco standing to her side leaning against the wall with a frown. The young mans grey eyes took in the pair of them oddly, as though searching for something. He was wearing heavy knee high leather boots and brown breaches. But his upper half was uncovered allowing for the continued exposure of his huge albino bats wings.

It was then that Severus decided he had better not be left alone with Hermione while Nightshade was not awake.

* * *

The dining room they had been lead to had the same glass like walls and black glossy floor as the rest of the structure. There was a stout thick wooden table in the centre, round like the room itself, with five chairs around it and the places set for eating. Despite the lack of decoration, it was still a warm and inviting place.

Hermione found herself sitting between Draco and Snape. Draco to her right, Snape to her left. She still had the feeling that she had forgotten something. Not something important, but something she really shouldn't have forgotten. Well, it would most likely come back to her eventually. What worried her more was that Snape was being oddly quiet. It simply wasn't like him to act like that. He didn't even role his eyes when Hermione and Draco had started to ridicule each other.

Catherine rose from her seat besides the Potions Master as the roots of the doorway parted semi silently. The look of utter adoration on the warriors face left little doubt that the woman revealed by the roots was Penny. She was rather short, most likely just over five foot, with sleek blond hair and crystalline blue eyes. Her frame was boyish and her skin was pale enough to suggest she hadn't seen sunlight for years. Not only that but she looked quite sickly and weak. Yet the strength that rolled from her was immense. A soft smile on her pallid pink lips, she embraced Catherine and gave the warrior a brief kiss before turning to greet her guests.

"Welcome, my name is Penny," she said. Her voice an odd combination of extreme power and soft weakness as she took the seat Catherine pulled out for her. "I apologise for the manner used to bring you here Hermione." The Living Ghost frowned. It was no surprise that she knew her name; she could feel the connection between the two older women. Similar to the cool flow of magic, but different at the same time. That wasn't what had caused her frown however.What caused her to frown was how very familiar this Penny was to her.

"That's okay," she answered slowly. "I understand why you had to call me. Have I met you before?" A brilliant smile graced her round face.

"Yes you have. I was a nurse before I came here. You frightened the life out me when you Ghosted through the needle." Hermione's jaw dropped. It couldn't be. She would have remembered if that nurse had this kind of presence about her. Than again, the sudden discovery of a further oddity could have overwhelmed that. The pale woman chuckled quietly and shook her head. "I've changed a lot since then my dear. I was a later bloomer when it came to my gifts, much like young Draco here."

"What do you mean?" asked Draco, his wings twitching irritably as though to assert their presence. She could feel a ripple of confusion and annoyance wash through their own link.

"Well, really, you're both later bloomers. Most likely because of the life you have each lead. Usually your gift is triggered when you're rather young. Between five and nine tends to be the norm. Then, once you start puberty, your gifts develop in variety and strength," she explained, still good natured. "But you two, your gifts have only been developing in that way for the last year at the most. You needn't worry about it though. It tends to mean you'll end up either more skilled or more powerful or both."

Then her blue eyes turn to Snape. A frown graced her smooth brow and a look of worry pursed her lips. "Who let this one in?" she asked, near harshly. At last the man gave a response. His eyebrows rose.

"Excuse me?" It was easy to see that he was offended by the question.

"I did Penny," answered Catherine a frown on her own brow. "Should I not have?"

"He's a Dark Wolf," was the severe reply the warrior gained. "And there is much blood on his hands." At that he cringed. Reflexively, Hermione reached out and laid her hand on his arm. A show of silent support and a gesture of comfort. It seemed his conscience still plagued him.

"What's a Dark Wolf?" asked Draco, obviously hoping to alleviate some of the tension in the room.

"I can guess," was the slow reply from Snape. "Is it a werewolf Vampire hybrid of some description?" Penny's eyes narrowed in a combination of confusion and suspicion.

"A human with Vampire blood, infected by a werewolf's bite. Very rare, very dangerous. Immortal and savage. Where the werewolf is only a danger on the night of the full moon, you will change the night before with the rising of the moon and not turn back to your Vampire form until the moon sets the night after it has been full. Almost three days as a monster whose only thought is to kill." There was no cruelty in Penny's voice, only a small amount of uncertainty. As though she wasn't sure she should be telling them this. The look of pure horror of Sna- no, on Severus's face seemed to reassure her however. Hermione squeezed his arm, hoping it would be a mild comfort to him. "Silver is deadly to you if used to lance your heart, and it will burn to the touch. Other than that only decapitation will kill you. Not only that, but you have Vampire instincts to contend with. This means you are a danger to those you find attractive if the wolf in you is not in attendance-"

"If you'll excuse me." Brushing her hand from his arm, Severus rose to his feet looking faintly ill. She moved to stop him, but Draco stopped her with a hand on her own arm and a silent plea to let him go. Almost shakily, he walked out of the room.

Unbidden, panic rose in her. She stumbled to say something, anything, that would fight against what this sickly looking woman had said to him. She should be going after him! She was his apprentice for Merlin's sake! It was part of her duty to be there for him! Suddenly she felt three times as nauseous as she had in flight.

"He needed to know Ghost," Draco told her softly.

"But-"

"No buts. If he hadn't known then he would have changed in the middle of the Orders Headquarters. Do you really think he would have been able to live with himself after that?" No, was the honest answer. He had enough guilt to contend with.

Penny leaned forward, steepling her fingers with her elbows on the table. Regret was written on her features and a frown was on Catherine's brow, as though she wasn't entirely sure what she had just witnessed. Hermione still stumbled over and choked on words. She didn't know what to do.

"I take it none of you knew the full extent of his condition?"

Hermione shook her head wordlessly, but Draco gave a steadier "no." The pale woman nodded.

"There is more to it; I'll point him in the direction he needs to look to find answers about what he is. He doesn't need to drink blood in case you're wondering. Though he will occasionally get the urge to. But that is not what we are here to discuss."

* * *

Numb was the only way to describe the way he felt. Despite the fact that Nightshade was now awake and grovelling for forgiveness over not being there when he had nearly bitten Hermione, Severus could locate no feeling. Not spite towards the woman who had told him of his condition. Not anger towards Nightshade for not being there to stop him. Not even awe at his surroundings or interest in the sword fighting lesson going on below.

He was stood on a sort of platform that ringed the round wall of the training grounds at least forty feet beneath him, leaning against the stone railing that was to prevent people from falling. His dark eyes listlessly watching Hermione strike and parry as she duelled against Catherine. A sword and her gifts the only weapons she was allowed. Her rapid improvement would have astounded him at any other time, but now he could spark absolutely no interest to life in him. Watching the blur of black slam her sword down against the green and blue blurs, he let out a sigh. Catherine crashed her arm into the flat of her own blade in an attempt to push Hermione back, but blade, arm, and all went straight through Hermione's sword and the Living Ghost bashed her free elbow into Catherine's jaw. Until this lesson, Ghosting had taken Hermione almost exclusive concentration. But now it seemed to come as natural as breathing to her.

How do you absorb the fact that you're immortal? Despite living in a word of magic where anything was possible, despite meeting several Vampires in his time, despite knowing of the Philosophers Stone, Severus still couldn't believe that only silver and having his head cut off would be the death of him. Not only was it a very unpleasant way to die either way, he simply couldn't come to terms with a potential eternity stretched out in front of him. Then there was the people he knew. How do you come to terms with the fact that you would most likely live to see every one of them die? Worse yet, wither, grow old then fade away before his eyes while he stayed exactly as he was. It was unfathomable.

Then there were his Vampire instincts. Undeniable as they had already risen in him twice, both in the presence of Hermione. He certainly couldn't say he didn't find her attractive now. Yet with her past and his present he could only hope that a father daughter relationship would develop instead of the alternative. He would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about cancelling her apprenticeship. Though he had thrown the thought away almost as soon as it had come. Hermione would have been devastated if he had shoved her in the direction of another Master for either of her apprenticeships. It would have been safer for her to go, but since when had she ever agreed that the safest course of action was the course of action she was going to follow. Not to mention he wasn't entirely sure whose stubbornness would win that battle, his or hers.

Penny was standing behind him. She had been for almost ten minutes, most likely thinking herself unnoticed. But her fluttering heart beat and peculiarly sea like scent had given her away in an instant. He was getting rather bored of her standing there though. It wasn't as if she would be disturbing him. "Do have a particular reason to stand gawking at me?" he drawled blandly. The woman gave a small, startled gasp, then confidently approached to stand beside him. He didn't bother looking at her and instead faked an interest in the battle below. An odd sort of possessiveness finally creeping through the numbness around his heat. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about someone teaching _his_ apprentice with the level of intimacy required for her to learn as fast as she was.

"I hope I didn't offend you earlier," she said quietly.

"And if you did? Would it really matter?" He didn't like this woman. Not because what she had told him, but there was just something about her that seemed entirely _too_ human. Like every little nook and cranny of this woman's humanity had been exploited and developped to its full. It made the hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms stand on end just to be near her.

"I suppose not, you had to know of what you were regardless." She remained silent for a while then continued. "You should let her go." At that a mirthless smile found his lips and a low, almost growl like, chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"It's obvious from that, that you don't know her," he replied with an amused yet bored note to his silky voice. "I thought about handing her over to a different Master for them to teach her, but I doubt she would agree. And when Hermione doesn't agree with something she can be as unmovable as a mountain. So you see, Telepath," he twisted the word into an insult on his tongue. "It isn't just me who would need to let go, she would have to release the grip already cast in iron that she holds over me." Hermione disappeared into the ground below and a harsh curse from Catherine reached his ears just before the young woman reappeared and swiped the warrior's legs from under her.

"Well, Wolf, you had best take care of her. My people would not be pleased if she came to any harm, and while fire doesn't kill you, I dare say one or all of our Pyrokinetics could weaken you with it enough for one of us to decapitate you should your teeth have anything to do with any harm that befalls her."

"If I harm her," he replied, a playfully spiteful ring to his voice. "Your people will be at the back of a very long line of people after my head, and since I would gladly let the person first in line, most likely Draco, take it, you'll have to live with the disappointment of being unable to collect." A glance to the woman showed anything but disappointment. Instead she gave a proud nod and straightened her posture.

"You'll do just fine." At that he raised an eyebrow. "While empathy has long since escaped me, I know love when I see it. You'll take care of her, as long as you have your spirit wolf to keep you in check."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hermione haas been through hell-"

"A fact I am well aware of," he interrupted snappishly. Loosing his patience with this woman. "Get to the point."

"After the approaching full moon, you will be a fully fledged Dark Wolf." Penny turned her head to stare him in the eyes. She had the potential to be intimidating, but her nature was too warm for that. "While now you have the strength, speed, stamina and endurance of a human, once your body has had the time to rearrange itself you will be close to unstoppable." His eyebrow rose. That he highly doubted. It was most likely something blown out of all proportion like most muggle interpretations of magical beings. "Stand by her, support her, but most of all, protect her. There is only so much her bonded brother can do for her," she continued, gesturing to Draco as he winged his way around the training field. Practicing aerial manoeuvres and battle under the guidance of a woman with wide scaly green wings and red scales in the place of skin. "She doesn't need another brother and she most certainly doesn't need a father. So be what she needs when the time is right."

Without even waiting for a response, she turned to walk away but stopped after five or so steps and turned back to look at him. "Oh and Severus?" He raised an eyebrow, showing her he was listening. "Everything you need to know about what you are can be found in a book called _Hybrids and Half-breeds: the Origins and Explanations Of._ I hope you manage to find a copy, it could save someone's life at some point."

* * *

Draco didn't really care what it might look like as he crept to Snape's room. He had waited for Hermione to be asleep so there wouldn't be any chance she would overhear his thoughts and feelings on this night. He had even put his wings away, leaving him feeling confined somewhere he should always feel free, just to try and make himself a bit less noticeable. The way he felt, his wings would most likely have feathers and the rustling of wings was something he didn't feel very willing to chance. He tapped quietly on the roots. They opened, exposing the room beyond.

Snape was sat at the desk with his sleeves rolled up, staring at his fore arm with a frown. He gave Draco a glance and a nod, permitting him to enter. Once he had stepped into the room, the roots closed up the door way again.

"Are you okay? Is it your Dark Mark?" After taking a deep, almost mournful breath, the potions Master turned to him.

"In a way. It's gone."

"I thought you'd be happy about something like that," Draco found himself stating in mild shock, but Snape shook his head.

"I didn't notice until now, but Voldemort must have removed it the night I was bitten. I suppose that explains the pain in my arm." His frown deepened. "It was as much a part of me as my sarcasm and now it's gone," he let out another heavy sigh. "I suppose I only felt that way because how much it hurt getting it."

"Err, speaking of Voldemort. That kind of brings me to the reason I came here." The Dark Wolf raised an eyebrow and slowly looked him over head to toe and back again with obvious scepticism in his blue-black eyes.

"Running off to join up with him? I can't say I blame you if you are, it's not as if the thought hasn't crossed my mind as well."

"No!" he cried, not entirely sure if it was in shock or horror. Then, more calmly, "no," he repeated. "Nothing like that." The temptation to ask if Snape had been serious when he said he'd thought about returning to Voldemort was certainly noticeable, but he had a different reason for this late night visit. "You know about my logical imagination?" Snape gave a brief nod. "I kind of had a dream that may or may not have been down to my gift. Usually I share everything I've seen with Hermione, but I don't think she should know about this. You though, I think you might have a right to know."

Reluctantly, Draco told him about the vision dream he had had before the Ministers announcement on the wireless. He didn't go into much detail when it came to Hermione killing the thirty armed muggles, he did however describe her exact appearance as a Vampire, the emotions he had felt coming from the man in the shadow and their exchange, including the wedding rings. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he disclosed the identity of the man in the shadows. Crashing disappointment perhaps. Absolute heart break maybe. Or at least some mild malcontent. What he didn't expect was what he got.

No sooner had the words, "I think Hermione is going to end up marrying Voldemort," left his lips, had the professor started to quietly snigger. The sniggering didn't last that long however and soon it was full blown howling laughter. Leaning back in his chair, Snape slid down to a comfortable slouch, mirth easy to see and hear. Through it however, Draco couldn't help but think of how Hermione would like his laugh. He almost growled at that thought. To say Draco was getting a bit sick of Hermione's hormones interfering with his day to day life would be an understatement.

It was quarter of an hour before Snape finally managed to get a grip on himself. Quarter of hour of Draco standing there feeling like the biggest prick on the face of the earth and getting more and more unnerved by Snape's very out of character behaviour. _Oh bloody hell, I've pushed him over the edge,_ he thought. _I driven him mad._

"I'm sorry," he snickered once he had gotten a bit of control over himself. Though his shoulders were still shaking with barely suppressed laughter. "It's just, with all the events of today and everything else that's happened lately. What you've just told me seems like the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" Then he was laughing again. His head on the desk this time and he would periodically hit the wood with his hand as Draco edged towards the door. This bout of hysterics didn't last very long though and soon he was only grinning like a madman instead of laughing like one and rising to his feet.

"Draco, I think that dream of yours is more likely to be the result of something you ate before falling asleep than being one of your visions," he said, guiding the blond towards the door without even attempting sobriety.

"Perhaps," he muttered, feeling pretty damn humiliated. "It just didn't feel right though."

"Trust me on this Draco, Voldemort likes his women easy and idiotic and that's when he actually bothers with women. He got his heart broke years ago and isn't willing to repeat that experience. No to mention I don't think he'd be able to handle Hermione. She'd drive him insane within a week. And she'd most likely bombarda his bollocks off after the first two days of him trying to pester her into bed."

"When you put it like that it does seem a bit stupid that I was worrying about it." He was still chuckling slightly when the roots pulled apart.

"I don't advise telling Hermione though."

"Why?" Draco asked warily. Thinking for a second that perhaps the laughter had been a rouse.

"Because she would most likely either panic and fret about it, or she would throw up." That sounded reasonable enough. The last time Hermione had seen Voldemort he was bald and didn't have a nose. He had seen her drawings of him and she had clearly found his appearance more than a little gross.

"Thanks for listening anyway." Now he thought about it, it did seem pretty rediculous that he had actually considered that dream being even vaguely plausible. Hermione ending up a psychotic vampire he could see, she loathed muggles and she knew quite a few Vampires so one of those might end up turning her, but _marrying Voldemort?_ What had he been eating before that.

"Go and get some sleep Draco, you've got a long flight ahead of you tomorrow." Nodding, he stepped out of Snape's room, the woody roots tangling back together as he made his way to his own room.

* * *

Nagini had been mortified when he told her what he planned to do. Mortified that he had been thinking so small. She had been right of course, Nagini was always right. She had still worried and fussed over him though, so much so that it had taken him hours to convince her he would be fine.

Now, as he usually did before any situation remotely like this, Voldemort found his emotions slowly shutting down. He couldn't say that cold swept through him, it would have been pure bliss if it had. No, this was simply the lukewarm of nonchalance. He knew his red eyes would be glowing slightly in the dim light that was left to the day, adding an almost monstrous glint to his almost entirely human features. Let it. Let his followers see him as a monster this night. How else could they see him if all their eyes could find of him was a shadow with glowing coals for eyes. But let his victims see him as a man. For while men may fear monsters who commit monstrous acts, they fear men who commit monstrous acts far, far more. Let these pitiful men and few women know the face of fear tonight. Let the muggle world know their stupidity in accepting a war with his kind.

He could feel the restlessness of impatience and anticipation drifting in waves from the ten shadow clad Death Eaters behind him. They wore no masks. They didn't need disguises now they had been given their pardons and now they fought against people they _wanted_ to see their faces. But they still wore dark clothing, as he had instructed them. His pets weren't quite ready for their first outing yet. And besides, he wanted this to be horrific in a human way. He wanted who ever opened the door to his work tonight to know that the sight that greeted them had been wrought by monstrously human hands.

A slow, cruel smile crawled into position on his lips, twisting his face to demonic menace. This must be what a wolf feels like when they come across an easy kill. One they know will never escape and couldn't even inflict any harm if it tried. The joy of blood lust griped at his long cold heart.

It would be terrible.

It would be horrific.

It would be so utterly human.

"Kill every one of them," he ordered coldly, his voice reaching for his previous hiss as he spoke over his shoulders to his more than qualified murderers. "And don't do it cleanly."

Their apparitions were silent, as he had taught. But they were not lazy. The shadows disappeared as he watched, his hunger growing by the second, gnawing at the very core of his being. There would be blood on his hands before this night was out. Oh yes, there would be much blood on his hands.

The last shadow faded out of existence, closely followed by a man too much of a monster to be called a man, and yet too much of a man to be called a monster.

* * *

**A/N** Thank you to Elia Black-cat, killinguwithumbrellas, professor.bat, Rageful Jewel, notwritten, Kalison Artor, Dreamweaver and pstibbons for reviewing. I really, really appreciate it.

Oh, and I've been reading over the rest of my fic myself and I've been suitably horrified by all the typos and wordsjoiningtogetherlikethis so I'm going back over all of it and sorting out as many as I can. Though I do point out that I'm English, so what some of you see as spelling mistakes are just the English spellings (things like colour).

I'll also be making a few more adjustments.

For example, I meant to mention in Chapter Nine that the real name for the G.E. is Saldren, so I'll be incorporating that as well as a few other minor details.


	11. Dark Wolf

Chapter Eleven: Dark Wolf

To say he was furious would be one of the biggest understatements of the last three centuries at least. One week ago there had been what could only be described as a slaughter in the House of Commons with that thing Potter had told him was called the Dark Mark left hanging over the building. That wasn't what had angered him however. In fact it had made his life that bit easier without those interfering idiots around. It had been the message that had been left there, crudely scrawled across the wall in blood that had been the start of his fury.

_For every one of us that falls, so shall a thousand of you._

_Courtesy of Lord Voldemort._

_P.S. Sorry about the blood, I didn't have a pen and paper handy._

That was all he needed, a psychopath with a sense of humour. And a psychopath who had been working rather diligently at making good on his threat. So far the death toll rang at four thousand three hundred and seventy two and it was climbing by the day. It was mainly personnel from the armed forces and civil servants, though there had been a few civilians as well. Every murder had been found underneath one of those skull and snake apparitions and it was starting to irritate the hell out of him.

The worst thing however, was that if any of his magic combat units managed to catch up with one of these so called Death Eaters (Gods what a ridiculous name, you could tell this Voldemort had been twelve when he came up with the basics for his campaign), the witch or wizards magic would be completely unaffected. He had seen some CCTV footage of one of the fights. Twelve of his men against one witch with quite mad long black hair. She had seemed to be quite enjoying herself as she sliced, diced, combusted and otherwise wreaked havoc. There had been one more interesting point about the fight. At one point she had unleashed a flash of green light that seemed to kill instantly. It was a spell he had never seen or heard of before and that worried him. If a freak like her could kill with a single, clean blow, it meant they were being purposefully messy every where else. No doubt to create panic. He would have to write to Potter and ask if he recognised the spell or the woman. The boy was turning out to be a rather useful source of information.

* * *

Severus had been restlessly pacing for almost half an hour as Hermione practiced the four spells he had shown her. They were surprisingly benign for Dark Magic. More protective than something used to inflict damage. Thankfully the rest of the houses inhabitants had found out about her second apprenticeship and none of them really seemed to care given the circumstances. Over all people seemed to think the more spells you knew, the more likely you could find one that could affect the muggles who were trying and, for the most part, failing to hunt them down. It seemed that while they knew about the Salldren and the Wizarding world, they didn't know how to locate the people they belonged to. At least not efficiently. They had found a few of the more active Death Eaters, but they had never managed to capture any of them. Or kill them.

Her wand made a complicated zig zagging pattern, leaving a trail of lilac light in its wake. Yet still he paced. She knew why. Tonight was the night before the full moon. The night his shape would change for the first time. He was nervous. Nightshade kept growling and snapping at who ever tried to talk to him. Not out of savagery. More out of fear for what would happen soon. He was acting more like a terrified cornered animal than any of them wanted to admit. And he had been muttering about something not feeling right. Something being out of balance.

The light brightened slightly, then faded. As it had every time she had tried to cast the spell. It wasn't often Hermione came across a spell she had trouble with. This one however simply refused to cooperate. She turned her eyes to Severus. He was still pacing, his eyes fixed to the floor in a sort of half glare she had come to associate with worry. He hadn't even noticed her failed attempt, which wasn't like him at all. Over the last week he had been swift to point out what she had done wrong and reset her course to better effects.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione pocketed her wand and turned to watch the Dark Wolf. She had no idea what to do to ease him. Remus had spoken with him yesterday. It had done nothing for his nerves. Severus had been twitchy and distracted ever since. But the more she watched him the less nervous he seemed. It was another emotion that had brought about this behaviour.

Fear.

He was afraid of what would be happening soon. In only an hour and a half in fact. She couldn't blame him. She would be terrified if she was about to become a savage wolf for the first time. Yet how to go about comforting him? Or at least trying to.

Almost nervously, Hermione took a few steps closer to the path of Severus Snape and waited for him to stride towards her. Before he could pass her, she grabbed his shoulder and he stopped, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She wasn't going to lie and say everything will be alright. Truth be told she had no idea what to say. So she didn't say anything.

Instead she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close to her. He stiffened instantly but she refused to let go and flooded her connection to Nightshade with caring and warmth. Hoping that it reached Severus as well. Hesitantly, his arms came up to wrap around her tightly. She could feel his arms shaking even as he pulled her as close as he could, burying his face in her shoulder. Now they were so close she could feel the fear rippling not only from Nightshade who had been actively trying not to let her feel it, but from Severus as well.

"I'll brew some healing potions," Hermione said softly, not relinquishing her hold on him. "Should I go by the book or use my instincts?" He didn't reply for a while, but his body had slackened and he was leaning against her more fully.

"Use your instincts," he mumbled into her blouse. "I trust you." It was wrong. Severus didn't mumble unless he was saying an insult under his breath. Mumbling was far too meek a mannerism for Severus. Frowning, she held him all the more tightly. She no idea how long they stood there like that, with the hug being close to bruising, but at some point Hermione felt Severus start to play with her hair. It seemed like he was reluctant to release her. Perhaps he wasn't used to people trying to comfort him or perhaps he was just glad for any distraction at that point of time. Hermione certainly didn't mind the closeness of that moment. The only part of it she could place any regret on was its cause.

She didn't know how long they stood there like that, neither particularly willing to let go of the other, but she could feel the reluctance with which Severus first began to pull away. A reluctance that halted him once their eyes met, with their arms still wrapped around each other and their faces a mere inch apart. She could feel his breath tickling her lips as his blue-black eyes, half closed as they were, stared into her own. Looking as captivated as she felt. For some reason Hermione found her breath quickening. Something intoxicatingly heady made everything outside of Severus's face blur and swim, but it didn't matter. All she needed to focus on was him. She felt her mouth dry out as he tilted his head slightly and was surprised to find that she had tilted hers as well. Then he was moving closer. Slowly, hesitantly and painfully so on both count.

A violent tremor ripped through Severus, tearing him out of her arms. He stumbled away, doubling over and breathing harshly. His eyes turned to her, panicked, afraid.

"I have to go," he gasped before running from the room half crouched.

* * *

Pushing off from the wall he had crashed into with his shoulder, he took the stairs two at a time. His heart pounding like a beating bass drum in his chest and every breath pulling fire into his lungs. His vision sharpened to an agonising level that made his eyes burn. The scent of humans overwhelmed his sense of smell. _Prey_, something foul within him growled.

There was a sickening shifting sensation in his mouth, a dull ach a thousand times more intense and twisted than he had experienced at the home of the Salldren. His newly pointed teeth nicking his thinning tongue as the door to the attic came into view. Safety. Not for him, but for Hermione. His feet began to ach, feeling as though they were crushed and stretched all at once. He grabbed hold of the handle just in time to see his nails thicken and blacken. Kicking his shoes off he threw open the door and flung himself into the bare room beyond.

The door slammed shut behind him. The walls, ceiling and floor began to glow as he scrambled to undo his shirt, the collar choking his thickening neck, but his fingers were getting shorter. A low half growl half scream tore from his throat as his entire lower face, from just under his eyes right down to his jaw extended as though being pulled out. His nose and lower lip becoming near indistinguishable.

Attempting a single step had him falling to the floor. The sound of creaking and scraping bones shrieking in his ears even as they were pulled to points. He felt his feet be stretched even as his lower legs were crushed shorter. The collar of his shirt burst open, closely followed by the rest of his buttons as his bulk expanded. The ripping of fabric joined the screech of his bones and he watched in horror as thick, dense black fur began to sprout from his skin.

Agony didn't come close to describing the fire of pain that washed through his entire body as his joins were shattered and reformed. His limbed lengthen or forced ever shorter. His throat burned even as he began to cry out in pain, reconstructing his very voice box as Severus felt his consciousness draw away into himself.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!"

* * *

Hermione collapsed to the floor of the makeshift lab. On her knees she clamped her hands over her ears, knowing it wouldn't block out the fear, the horror the sheer _agony_ that radiated towards her. On a physical level it left her completely unaffected. On a mental level it tore her apart. "Stop it," she murmured quietly to herself as she squeezed her eyes shut. But that only sharpened her mind to the sensory onslaught. "Please stop it."

Long before his arms wrapped around her, Draco's mind was there. Trying in vain to soothe her. Wrapping her in warmth, in happy memories. Then he was a physical presence. Gently rocking her as he stroked her hair and whispered soft words to her. It didn't work. Still there was pain. Pain on a level that left cuciatus curse for dust on the starting line. Pain that buzzed at every nerve ending like a swarm of angry wasps refusing to stop their attack. Pain that burned with fire, reducing everything to cinders yet still destroying. No comforting whisper could bring her away from her awareness of such a horror. No calming rocking sway her from knowing every gram of the atrocity.

A scream echoed through the house, though if she heard it with her mind or her ears she couldn't say. But it didn't stay a scream or long, soon it was an animalistic howl of pain.

Then, as soon as it had started, it stopped. There was no pain, there was no horror. There was only absolute silence with Hermione limp in Draco's arms, panting heavily and her brow misted with sweat. The silence didn't last.

Another howl found her ears. Yet this was no howl of pain. This was a howl of power, of dominance. And in that howl Hermione heard words.

* * *

Panting, he lay on his side surrounded by scraps of cloth. He blinked once, twice, and then climbed shakily to his paws. A single tremor rippled through his large strong body. Stillness swept over him as he felt the ecstasy of absolute control trill through his body, _his body_, after a near month of imprisonment. A joyous snarl came to his lips and, taking a deep breath; he threw his head back and howled out his declaration.

"I am LABURNUM!"

Look around. Look around. Must escape. Can scent humans. The door. The door did not glow. In an instant he rushed at it, his four padded paws pounding against the wooden floor. Saliva flying from his wide open mouth as he loudly snarled. He jumped. Front paws slamming into the wood. Claws scraping downwards. No mark. NO MARK! Must escape. Must KILL!

Again and again. Against the door. Slam it. Bite at it. Bite at shiny metal. Turn to open. Won't open. Slam again. Claws. Use claws. It gives. But still no mark. Claws again. Try again! Humans past door. HUMANS! The filth. The weak ones. Want to rip. Want to tear. Want to . . . taste.

New attack. NEW ATTACK! Destroy door. Destroy it. . . Claws again. Don't work. Don't make wood splinter. Slam! Slam it. With head. Now with body. With body. FASTER! Harder. Pads away. As far as can. RUNS! Door doesn't give. Why doesn't it give? Why doesn't it DIE! Need to kill. Wants to kill. MUST kill.

Anger. Anger. ATTACK! Bite at it! Bite! To taste blood must bite. . . Claws. BACK CLAWS! On chest. Dig. Dig for blood. Dig for meat. Smell it. SMELL IT! Not human. BITE AGAIN! Rip. TEAR! Destroy. Humans weak. Humans to bite. Humans to kill. Humans to rip. Pain. PAIN! Keep digging. Keep digging. All claws. Use ALL CLAWS!

* * *

Something rough and wet lapped at his cheek as Severus forced his eyes open. Blearily he turned to look up at the dark shape by his head. He felt and uneven ground beneath him. So he was lying down then? A whimper sounded from the dark shape and it nudged him, feeling cold and damp. Expect the whimper had a word. It didn't sound like English to him. More he simply understood. "Alpha?" Yet in that understanding was a familiarity almost like recognising a voice.

"Nightshade?" Slowly, his vision began to un-fog. The dark shape became more defined. It sharpened. A wolf? Strongly built with thick black fur and eyes like his own. The only break in the black being the small white patches under its eyes. He reached up and laid his hand against to wolf's face, burying his fingers in the soft fur. Nightshade leaned into the touch and liked his wrist. He wasn't a small wolf, but nor was he of massive proportions. He was large, yes, but only as large a normal wolf could hoe to be.

Taking his hand from the wolf, Severus pushed up to his feet and took in his surroundings. Finding himself in a forest deprived of all colour. Instead black, grey and white in their various shades showed the trees and fallen leaves. The light that sliced through the canopy above was silvery and as sharp as a blade. "Where are we?"

"My home Alpha," the wolf told him. "This is the part of you I live in. You must come here when the moon is full."

"But if we're both here, then who has control of our body?" The wolf gave a wordless whimper and knocked his head against Severus' leg. "Perhaps there was another part," he continued, reaching down to pet at Nightshade's head, scratching with nails he only just realised had lengthened to claws. "One that was buried deeper. It would explain why neither of us knew about it and why we would be so violent on the full moon."

"Laburnum." This time the sound was a vicious snarl.

"What?"

"Laburnum. The other. I can hear what he hears. I know how this place and the link works, how to contact the body's mind. He howled his name."

"Another poisonous plant," Severus found himself mumbling. Out of curiosity he ran his tongue along the bottom of his teeth ad sighed when he found fangs. So this place gave the fragments of him their true shape. Nightshade a wolf and himself a vampire. What then, was this Laburnum? "Do you know what he's doing?" The wolf gave a whimper and tried to move closer to his hand without knocking it away.

"Trying to break through the door you sealed. He's mad. Absolutely insane." He paused for a moment then gave a low whine. "I can't reach Alpha Female."

"Can he?" Panic gripped his heart. He didn't want Hermione getting dragged in to this. She had been through enough without an insane thing latching onto her mind.

"I don't know."

"Is there any wa-" Pain slashed through his right leg, sending him crashing to the ground with a gasp. Nightshade let out a yelp and dashed to his side. Sniffing at his leg.

"No blood," the wolf whimpered in confusion and worry. "He's attacking himself." A cry ripped from Severus' throat as fire seemed to slice like razors across his stomach and chest. Panting, he collapsed. He had neither the will nor the energy to hold himself up in even the slightest way.

Through the haze of pain he realised Nightshade had lain beside him, as close to him as possible with his wolf's body pressed against Severus' vampire one. His arm trembling, he reached over the wolf to hold it tight, burying his face in its fur, taking the comfort offered to him.

* * *

Worry saw to it that Draco's brow was creased. He sat in the corner of the lab watching Hermione as she sliced some sort of tuber so finely the slivers she created were almost transparent. As usual she had her mp3 player on to block out all distractions. Only this time it was on so loud he could hear the music, almost enough to pick out the words. Yet he knew she hadn't managed to block out what she had been trying to.

Through her, he had an awareness of what Snape was going through, the pain he was inflicting upon himself. But compared to Hermione's ocean of feeling, agony and ravings, his knowledge amounted to a mere drop. He had had a quick glimpse of the full level of what was happening and knew that she felt exactly what Snape was going through. She felt the hot trickle of blood from his self inflicted wounds, she heard every insane growl and she was there to experience the frenzy of this new part of Snape.

Laburnum it had called itself according to Hermione, who, being a potions apprentice, had known exactly where the name had come from. "The full Latin name is Laburnum anagyroives," she had said once she calmed down. "It's a tree that has yellow flowers and every bit of it is poisonous but it takes quite a while to kill the consumer through its symptoms."

"Which are?" he had asked with not so subtle reluctance.

"Coma, intense sleeplessness, vomiting, convulsions, frothing at the mouth and unequally dilated pupils. It isn't a pleasant way to die, especially considering how long someone would have to ingest it before they actually did die. Though it seems odd that Nightshade is the more gentle of the personalities and yet the plant is a more potent poison. Then again nightshade offers a quicker, far less violent death than laburnum."

"What about nightshade? What does that do?"

"Hyper excitement quickly followed by death. As I said, faster and less violent."

Draco couldn't help but wonder what the choice of names of the two broken away fragments of him said about the Potions Master. Both had picked poisonous plants to go by. Did the attributes of the poisons match the attributes of the two different wolves? Laburnum, slow and violent. Violent most definitely, he wasn't so sure about slow though. From what he heard through Hermione it seemed more likely he would quickly tear anyone limb from limb or rip out their throat. Nightshade, fast and no where near as violent. He wasn't sure about either of those attributes fitting the calmer wolf. Draco had spoken to him a few times and he had been more overprotective and mild mannered than anything else. He certainly couldn't picture that wolf as being any sort of killer unless he had no other choice or someone he cared about was in danger.

Hermione was stood by the softly bubbling cauldron now, holding a bowl with the tuber slices in and her fingers coated in some flour like powder. With great care she picked out one of the slivers and slowly lowered it into the cauldron. He heard the bubble increase, as though the mixture had been put onto a rapid boil. One by one she added the tuber slices. A sweet scent began to cloy the air in the room, becoming sweeter and sweeter with every added slice until finally, as the last slice was slowly lowered into the bubbling brew, the sweetness crossed the border into a scent that was sickly. She then used a pale, almost white, wooden stirring rod and began to mix the concoction in a pattern that was bewildering to watch. Before quickly removing her instrument to wipe it clean using a greying rag.

He had never seen anyone, bar Snape, brew anything as complex as this potion. Everything was about timing, pattern and perfect rhythm. Yet even with the complexity of this potion he knew she was no where near the level of a Potions Mistress. Though to Draco the gap between practitioner and apprentice had never looked clearer to him than it did now. She had been an apprentice for less than two weeks and yet she had already improved more than most people could hope to between first and seventh year.

Wiping her damp brow with the back of her arm, Hermione used her wand to turn the heat down on the cauldron then moved back to her work bench to collect long sprigs of some sort of dried budded herb that she had tied to thin wires. The wires had weights on each end with as many of the sprigs tied to them between as she could have managed. With a sigh, she lowered the first set of sprigs into the cauldron with the weights hanging down to keep the wire taught over the vessel's brim. She had made about twenty of the sprig wires and somehow she managed to get everyone to fit over the cauldron with the budding parts of the dried herb submerged in the potion.

This was the first time he had seen her work so diligently and so quickly. Hermione worked over hard. That was a simple fact that everyone who knew of her was well aware of. And it showed in her grades in every subject she did. But this was more than over hard. This was utterly absorbed. She was drowning herself in her work in a desperate bid to block out Laburnum and in the most likely false hopes that these potions would be able to heal Snape's wounds.

After ten minutes she removed the first wire of springs and, using her bare hand, stripped the buds now fat and squidgey looking into to a large black marble mortar and began to grind them into a pulp with a matching pestle.

* * *

She had heard what he looked like when he came back from Death Eater meeting having fallen foul of Voldemort. Shaky and unsteady but in otherwise good condition. Now though, as Severus slowly limped down the stairs covered in his own overly rich and dark blood, Hermione found herself wishing she had seen him on those occasions if only to prepare herself for this. He was wearing the loose white shirt and black trousers he had stored in the room before he had changes, though the white shirt was clinging to his front and to the entire length of his for arms with thick, dark crimson. He was bracing himself against the wall with his hand, his arm out straight and level with his shoulder as he leaned against it. Blood welled at his wrist before dripping like red syrup to the stairs.

That was all the invitation she needed. Hermione ran to him. He looked to her with half closed eyes as she wedged herself under his arm and wrapped her own around his blood free back, her hand holding onto his waist, blessing it with his blood. "You don't . . . have to do this." She ignored him. Taking his hand from the wall and insuring his arm was well placed over her shoulder. She couldn't hold onto his arm because of the wounds hiding beneath his shirt, so she held onto his hand to hold him in place instead and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

He leaned against her, obviously exhausted, and allowed her to guide him. She only hoped she had made enough of the salves and gathered enough bandages. She would go back and clean his blood from the floor once she had seen to him. Eventually they reached his room and she helped him onto the wooden chair by his desk. She had piled all of the salves, poultices and bandages on the desk, her logic being the less Severus had to move the better. "You can go now," he murmured, sill not fully opening his eyes and breathless from the short journey. "I'll do the rest myself."

"Don't be absurd. Get your shirt off."

"What?" Oh Merlin, he didn't even have the energy to sound properly offended or shocked.

"You aren't in a fit state to do anything yourself at the moment, not to mention you don't know the strength of any of this," she told him briskly, gesturing to the healing paraphernalia piled on his desk. Trying to stay impersonal to save his dignity in his own eyes. Oddly enough, he complied without further argument and that scared her far more than any amount of blood seeping from him ever could. He wasn't supposed to agree, at least not until he had exhausted every argument available to him. He even let her help him remove his shirt when it became apparent he was having difficulty with it.

"Merlin." There had been something oddly detached about him wearing a bloody shirt. Now with the offending garment on the floor the reality of his injuries hit her like a blow to the stomach.

To say they were horrific would be an understatement. His chest stomach neck and under his chin seemed to be little more than pulped bloody meat. The savage carcass of some dead animal. Except he was still bleeding and the dead didn't bleed. His blood welled in time with his pulse and she knew any one else would be long dead. In three places on what was left of his chest she could see the white of bone. His arms hadn't fared much better. From the elbow down to the wrist they had been gnawed at mercilessly, though at parts there were defined teeth mark, at others there was the same deep welts and unrecognisable red flesh. The bone showed more clearly there and in larger patches. These weren't all of his injuries. She knew his right ankle had suffered a similar fate and she would need to see to that as well.

He was leaning forward slightly, still breathing harshly. A drop of blood was gathering on his chin as Hermione took up her wand to clean him up one bit at a time so she could apply the salve. She gave an involuntary wince as the blood dripped down from his chin in a long flow to land on his trousers and seep into the fabric. Still, his chin wasn't the worst part. Again she took hold of his hand and with a silent spell got rid of the blood on his wrist. "This might sting a bit," she told him softly as she laid her wand aside to take up one of the bowls of pale yellow salve.

He didn't reply. Not did he react when she began to gently apply the thick, cream like salve. She used it generously, using her fingers to spread the cool balm and ensure it got into every crevice of his extensive wound. It took her a while to clean up and smother the whole of his lower arm, about fifteen minutes most likely. The she took up a role of clean cotton bandage. Starting once again at his wrist, she wound the rough material around his arm and fastened it in place once she had covered the wounds there. His other arm didn't take quite as long but the amount of bone of display deeply unnerved her. Would he scar from this, she wondered.

"Lean back." Again he did as he was told and leaned back against the wooded chair. This part would be more difficult and take much longer. Perhaps it would be best to start at the top? At least that was the blood wouldn't seep down into the bandages. A sigh escaped her as she decided that Severus' chin would be the best place to start. This certainly hadn't been in the job description for becoming his apprentice, but regardless of that she refused to let anyone else near him.

Again she started by cleaning up a small part of him and since under his chin was a small part of him she cleaned it all at once. The salve was trickier to apply in that area, but she was getting the hang of it and soon she was taping one of those square bandages in place. The rest of him was more difficult, not for the cleaning or the application of the salve, but for the bandaging. The neck was inherently awkward, as was most of his chest, but she managed and soon moved onto his ankle.

The wound there wasn't any where near as bad as his others, most likely because Laburnum had decided it was better to use his back legs to injure himself rather than to injure them. Unlike the rest of him, the bites there were well defined and obviously canine. It didn't take her long to see to that wound and soon she was rolling his trouser leg back down. Frowning, Hermione rose to her feet and cast her eye over Severus. His eyes were still half close in exhaustion and his head was nodding. Not only that, but his arms were hanging limply by his sides. He almost looked pathetic to tell the truth. Not at all the domineering proud man she knew he was. The bandages didn't help either. That made him look as though someone had started to mummify him but got bored half way through.

Shaking her head, she started to help him back to his feet. "Come on, let's get you into bed. You need some rest." Again he gave no protest and willingly limped over to the bed with her. He didn't even kick up a fuss when she helped him lay down on top of the covers, though he did shift so that he was lying on his side. In fact he didn't react at all.

At least not until she moved to leave him. Hs hand snatched her wrist faster than she though he would ever be able to move in the state he was in and looked up to her with heavy dark eyes. "Will you stay," he murmured. Tiredness clear in his voice. "Just until I fall asleep." She didn't move. She didn't speak. What on Earth was she meant to say to that? "Please." Severus Snape saying please? She could exactly say no to that. Biting her lip, she gave a slight nod and he relaxed his grip on her wrist. It was then that Hermione surprised herself.

She lay on the small bed next to him. Also on her side so she could face him. With all of his injuries there was no way she could lay her arm over him or place her head on his shoulder. He seemed to know what she was thinking though as he reached out and took her hand in his. It had been a long three days. Severus hadn't been the only one not to sleep. Hermione hadn't been able to either. And the bed was comfortable. As was the grip Severus had on her hand. Or was that reassuring. She could feel his eyes on her, yet she didn't care. And she was so very tired. So was it really any surprise that her eyes slipped closed and her mind slipped away?

* * *

**A/N** Sorry for the wait, I've been more busy than I thought I would be. The editing is still in progress, but it's getting there.

Anyway, thank you to killing u with umbrellas, F75, Silverstar's Shadow, poodlehair92, teddy240b, Nadrek, Pinkwafflegirl and Professor.Bat for being kind enough to review for me. I really appreciate the input and it's always nice to hear from people who've read my story.

So, anyone like Laburnum?


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